V] 


<^ 


/2 


y: 


■^ 


'/ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0    If  "Sfi  I 


2.5 


I.I 


m 


Photographic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


/. 


k 


^, 


f/. 


& 


1.25      1.4      1.6 

4 6"     

► 

73  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


'# 


^ 


r 

o 


^ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/iCiVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographlques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagde 


□    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pelliculde 

□    Cover  title  missing/ 
Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  Mure  serrde  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  int^rieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmontaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  methods  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


□   Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 


□ 
D 
E 
D 


D 
D 
D 
D 


Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pelliculdes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  ddcolordes,  tachetdes  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtachdes 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quality  indgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^mentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  dtd  filmdes  d  nouveau  de  faqon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


Thfl 
to  t 


Th« 
pofl 
oft 
filrr 


Ori 

be( 

the 

sioi 

oth 

firs 

sior 

ori 


Th« 
sha 
TIN 
whi 

Mai 
diff 
enti 
beg 
righ 
reqi 
met 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fllm6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous 

10X                             14X                             18X                            22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X                             32X 

The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 


L'exemplaire  filmi  fut  reproduit  grSce  d  la 
g6n6ro8it6  de: 


University  of  Windsor 


University  of  Windsor 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Lss  images  suivantes  ont  6x6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  raxemplaire  f\\vn6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  ^^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film^s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  fiim^s  en  commenqant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derni^re  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboies  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  6  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  ii  est  i\\m6  6  partir 
de  i'angle  sup^rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  6  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m^thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

1                4              ; 

5 

6 

Docl 


wait  J 


p* 


PUKGATORY-. 


Doctrinal,  Historical  and  Poetical, 


BY 


MRS 


J      ^A.DI'I^^^* 


Lo  I  Purgatory  I  doctrinb  BtEST, 
Engarlanded  with  legends  wild, 

.Mn  PoKTRY'9  fair  FLOWERS  I 

Historic  lorb  and  Postry  » 


.       •        thnl  I  may  praise  thy  name:  the  just 
<<  Bring  my  soul  out  of  prison,  thaf  I  may  p 
^ait  for  me,  until  thou  re-ward  me," 


Ps.  CXLI.   8. 


J 

1 


%    , 


D     &    J.SADl-IER    &    COMPANY, 
81  A  88  Barclay  Street. 

H0LV  HCOEEMER  LIBRARY,  VilNDSOft 


.. .  A  iSiiiiiia**  <?^«f« 


H|i^iatM*V^MP«MqCP^paM«fl 


unmmmmmmmmi:\$M  mm 


ik   ( 


H 


%sdpw 


IMPRIMATUR: 
^  MICHAEL   AUGUSTINE, 

Archbishop  of  New  York. 


Copyright,  1886. 
K.    &    A.    SADLIER. 


nM4r    '^ 


4 


Electrotyped  by  Smith  &  McDougal, 
82  Beekman  St.,  New  York. 


Printed  by  Edward  O.  Jenkins'  Sons, 
20  North  William  St.,  New  York. 


iadkw 


:m^ 


Jk. 


m\y 


DKDICATION 

TO   TIIF,   GRACIOUS   MF.MORY 

OF  MY  DEARLY-BELOVED  SON, 

Rev.  Francis  X.  S7\dlier,  S.J, 

WHOSE   Tr.XDER   DEVOTION   TO   THE 

M\\\^  in  guvg;vtovjj 

LED   HIM   TO   TAKE   A   DEEP   AND   ACTIVE   INTEREST 
IN   THE   PROGRESS   OF   THIS   WORK, 

BUT   WHO   WAS   NOT    PER.MITTED   TO    SEE   ITS   COMPIETION, 

BEING   CALLED   HENCE,    SCARCELY   THREE   MONTHS 

AFTER   HIS   ORDINATION,   IN   THE   MIDDLE  OF 

THE  MONTH   CONSECRATED   TO   THOSE 


i^ollj  0OUl0, 


i  I 


' 


4  i       *' 


n 


November    i/i^th,    1885. 


R.  I.  P. 


'    *\ 


t 


INTRODUCTION. 


^ 


„ 


I  HAVE  written  many  books  and  translated  many  more  on  a 
great  variety  of  subjects,  nearly  all  of  which,  I  thank  God  now 
with  all  my  heart,  were  more  or  less  religious,  at  least  in  their 
tendency ;  but  the  circle  of  these  my  life-long  labors  seems  to  me 
incomplete.  One  link  is  wanting  to  the  chain,  and  that  is  a  work 
specially  devoted  to  the  souls  in  Purgatory.  This  omission  I  am 
anxious  to  supply  while  the  working  days  of  my  life  are  still  with 
me,  for,  a  few  more  years,  at  most,  and  for  me  "  the  night  cometh 
when  no  man  can  work." 

As  we  advance  into  the  vale  of  years  and  journey  on  the  down- 
ward slope,  we  are  happily  drawn  more  and  more  towards  the 
eternal  truths  of  the  great  untried  world  beyond  the  grave.  Fore- 
most amongst  these  stands  out  more  and  still  more  clearly,  in  all 
its  awful  reality,  the  dread  but  consoling  doctrine  of  Purgatory. 
When  we  have  seen  many  of  our  best  beloved  relatives,  many  of 
our  dearest  and  most  devoted  friends — those  who  started  with  us  in 
*'  the  freshness  of  morning  "  on  the  road  of  life,  which  then  lay  so 
deceitfully  fair  and  bright  before  them  and  us — they  who  shared  our 
early  hopes  and  aspiration'?,  and  whose  words  and  smiles  were  the 
best  encouragement  of  our  ..j' ble  efforts — when  we  have  seen  them 
sink,  one  by  one,  into  the  darkness  of  the  grave,  leaving  the  earth 
more  bleak  and  dreary  year  by  year  for  those  who  remain — then  do 
we  naturally  follow  them  in  spirit  to  those  gloomy  regions  where 
one  or  all  may  be  undergoing  that  blessed  purification  which  pre- 
pares them  for  the  eternal  repose  of  Heaven. 

Of  all  the  divine  truths  which  the  Catholic  Church  proposes  to 
her  children,  assuredly  none  is  more  acceptable  to  the  pilgrim  race 
of  Adam  than  that  of  Purgatory.  It  is,  beyond  conception,  dear 
and  precious  as  one  of  the  links  that  connect  the  living  with  the 
vanished  dead,  and  which  keeps  them  fresh  in  the  memory  of  those 


I 


t-  i  ii 


I    J 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

who  loved  thorn  on  earth,  and  whose  dearest  joy  it  is  to  be  able  to 
help  them  in  that  sliadowy  border-land  through  which,  in  pain  and 
sorrow,  they  must  journey  before  entering  the  Land  of  i'romisc, 
vvhicli  is  the  City  of  God,  seated  on  the  everlasting  hills. 

When  I  decided  on  adding  yet  another  to  the  many  books  on 
I'urgatory  already  existing  even  in  our  own  language,  I,  at  the  same 
time,  resolved  to  make  it  as  different  as  possible  from  all  the  others, 
and  thus  fill  up  a  void  of  which  I  have  long  been  sensible  in  our 
English  I'urgatorial  literature.  Doctrinal  works,  books  of  devo- 
tion, we  have  in  abundance,  but  it  is,  unhappily,  only  the  pious,  the 
religiously-inclined  who  will  read  tlicm.  Knowing  this,  and  still 
desirous  to  promote  devotion  to  the  Holy  Souls  by  making  Purgatory 
more  real,  more  f;iniiliar  to  the  general  reader,  I  thought  the  very 
best  means  I  could  take  for  that  end  would  be  to  make  a  book 
chiefly  of  legends  and  of  poetry,  with  enough  of  doctrinal  and  devo- 
tional matter  to  give  a  substantial  character  to  the  work  by  placing 
it  on  the  solid  foundations  of  Catholic  dogma,  patristic  authority, 
and  that,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  latest  divines  and  theologians  of 
the  Church,  by  selections  from  their  published  writings. 

I  have  divided  the  work  into  five  parts,  viz.:  Doctrinal  and  De- 
votional, comprising  extracts  from  Suarez,  St.  Catherine  of  Genoa, 
St.  Augustine,  St.  Gertrude,  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  of  the  earlier  and 
middle  ages  ;  and  from  Archbishop  Gibbons,  Very  Rev.  Fad  di 
Bruno,  Father  Faber,  Father  Muller,  C.SS.R.,  Father  Binet,  S.J., 
Rev.  J.  J.  Moriarty,  and  others. 

The  Second  Part  consists  of  Anecdotes  and  Incidents  relating  to 
Purgatory,  and  move  or  less  authentic.  The  Third  Part  contains 
historical  matter  bearing  on  the  same  subject,  including  Father 
Lambing's  valuable  article  on  "  The  Belief  in  a  Middle  State  of  Souls 
after  Death  amongst  Pagan  Nations."  The  Fourth  Part  is  made 
up  of  "Thoughts  on  Purgatory,  from  Various  Authors,  Catholic  and 
non-Catholic,"  including  Cardinals  Newman,  Wiseman,  and  Man- 
ning; the  Anglican  Bishops  Jeremy  Taylor  and  Reginald  Heber, 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  William  Hurrell  Mallock,  Count  de  Maistre, 
Chateaubriand. 

The  Fifth  and  last  part  consists  of  a  numerous  collection  of 
legends  and  poems  connected  with  Purgatory.     Many  of  these  are 


A 


INTRODUCTION. 


Jt — ^ 


ansliitcd  from  the  French, especially  ihc  /.^<:;oiJi's (L' I'Aiifrt'  Afomft', 
by  the  well-known  legendist,  J.  Colin  do  I'hincy.  In  selecting  the 
legends  and  anecdotes,  I  have  endeavored  to  give  only  those  that 
were  new  to  most  I'aiglish  readers,  thus  leaving  out  many  legends 
that  would  well  bear  reproducing,  but  were  already  too  well  known 
to  excite  any  fresh  interest. 

In  the  poetical  section  I  have  represented  as  many  as  possible 
of  the  best-known  poets,  from  Dante  down,  and  some  poems  of 
rare  beauty  and  merit  were  translated  from  French  and  Canadian 
poets  by  my  daughter,  who  has  also  contributed  some  interesting 
articles  for  the  historical  portion  of  the  work.  As  may  be  sup- 
posed, this  book  is  the  fruit  of  much  research.  The  collection  of 
the  material  has  necessarily  been  a  work  of  time,  the  field  from 
which  the  gleanings  were  made  being  so  vast,  and  the  selections 
requiring  so  much  care. 

As  regards  the  legendary  portion  of  the  work,  whether  prose  or 
poetry,  the  reader  will,  of  course,  understand  that  I  give  the  legends 
precisely  for  what  they  are  worth ;  by  no  means  as  representing  the 
doctrinal  belief  of  Purgatory,  but  merely  as  some  of  the  wild  flowers 
of  poetry  and  romance  that  have  grown,  in  the  long  lapse  of  time, 
from  the  rich  soil  of  L\\\.\\  and  piety,  amongst  the  Catholic  peoi)les 
of  every  land — intensified,  in  this  instance,  by  the  natural  affection  of 
the  living  for  their  dear  departed  ones,  and  the  solemn  and  shadowy 
mystery  in  which  the  dead  are  shrouded  when  once  they  have  passed 
the  portals  of  eternity  and  are  lost  to  mortal  sight.  Some  of  these 
legends,  though  exceedingly  beautiful,  will  hardly  bear  close  ex- 
amination in  the  light  of  Catholic  dogma.  Of  this  class  is  "The 
Faithful  Soul,"  of  Adelaide  Procter,  which  is  merely  given  here  as 
an  old  French  legend,  nearly  connected  with  Purgatory,  and  having 
really  nothing  in  it  contrary  to  faith,  though  in  a  high  degree  im- 
probable, but  yet  from  its  intrinsic  beauty  and  dramatic  character, 
no  less  than  the  subtle  charm  of  Miss  Procter's  verse,  eminently 
worthy  of  a  place  in  this  collection.  The  same  remark  applies 
more  or  less  to  some  of  Colin  de  Plancy's  legends,  notably  that  of 
"  Robert  the  Devil's  Penance,"  and  others  of  a  similar  kind,  as  also 
T.  D.  McGee's  "  Penance  of  Don  Diego  Rias  "  and  Calderon's  "  St. 
Patrick's   Purgatory" — the  two  last   named   bearing  on  the  same 


'      M 


8 


INTRODUCTION. 


1! 


I" 


subject.  Nevertheless,  they  all  come  within  the  scope  of  my 
])rc.sent  work  and  are,  therefore,  presented  to  the  reader  as  weird 
fra;;ments  of  the  legendary  lore  of  Purgatory. 

Taken  altogether,  I  think  this  work  will  help  to  increase  devotion 
to  the  Suffering  Souls,  and  excite  a  more  tender  and  more  sensible 
feeling  of  sympathy  for  them,  at  least  amongst  Catholics,  showing, 
as  it  does,  the  awful  reality  of  those  purgative  pains  awaiting  all, 
with  few  or  no  exceptions,  in  the  after  life;  the  help  they  may  and 
do  receive  from  the  good  offices  of  the  living,  and  the  sacred  and 
solemn  duty  it  is  for  Christians  in  the  present  life  to  remember 
them  and  endeavor  to  relieve  their  sufferings  by  every  means  in 
their  power.  To  answer  this  purpose  I  have  made  the  dead  ages 
unite  their  solemn  and  authoritative  voice  with  that  of  the  living, 
actual  present  in  testimony  of  the  truth  of  this  great  Catholic 
dogma.  The  Saints,  the  Fathers,  the  Doctors  of  the  Church  in 
tlie  ages  of  antitjuity,  and  the  prelates  and  priests  of  our  own  day 
all  speak  the  same  language  of  undoubting  faith,  of  solemn  convic- 
tion regarding  Purgatory, — make  the  same  earnest  and  eloquent 
appeal  to  the  faithful  on  behalf  of  the  dear  suffering  souls,  lu'cn 
the  heathen  nations  and  tribes  of  both  hemispheres  are  brought  for- 
ward as  witnesses  to  the  existence  of  a  middle  state  in  the  after  life. 
Nor  is  Protestantism  itself  wanting  in  this  great  and  overwhelming 
mass  of  evidence,  as  the  reader  will  perceive  that  some  of  its  most 
eminent  divines  and  secular  writers  have  joined,  with  no  hesitating 
or  faltering  voice,  in  the  grand  Credo  of  the  nations  and  the  ages  in 
regard  to  Purgatory. 

What  remains  for  me  to  add  except  the  earnest  hope  that  this 
book  may  have  the  effect  it  is  intended  to  produce  by  bringing  the 
faithful  children  of  the  Church  to  think  more  and  oftcner  of  their 
departed  brethren  who,  having  passed  from  the  Militant  to  the 
Suffering  Church,  are  forever  crying  out  to  the  living  from  their 
darksome  prison — "Have  pity  on  us,  have  pity  on  us,  at  least  you 
who  were  our  fiiends,  have  pity  on  us,  for  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is 
heavy  upon  us  !  " 


/      .!, 


i! 


4 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


Introdttction 


PAGR 

•    5 


PART     I. 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 

Doctrine  of  Suarez  on  Purgatory 17 

St.  Catherine  of  Genoa  on  Purgatory 23 

Extracts  from  the  Fathers  on  Purgatory 29 

Verses  from  the  Imitation      ....          Thomas  ct  Kcmpis.  37 

St.  Augustine  and  liis  Mother,  St.  Monica 38 

St.  Gertrude  and  the  Holy  Souls 41 

St.  Joseph's  Intercession  for  the  Faithful  Departed      ...  45 

St.  Francis  de  Sales  on  Purgatory 46 

Cardinal  Gibbons  on  Purgatory 48 

Archbishop  Hughes  on  Purgatory 54 

Archbishop  Lynch  on  Purgntory 57 

Purgatory  Surveyed Father  Bind,  S.  y.  62 

Father  Faber  on  Devotion  to  the  Holy  Souls 96 

Why  the  Souls  in  Purgatory  are  called  "Poor"     .     .  Midler.  107 

Appeal  to  all  Classes  for  the  Souls  in  Purgatory 122 

By  a  Paulist  Father. 

The  Souls  in  Purgatory      .     .     .  Rev.  F.  X.  Weninger,  S.  %  125 

Popular  View  of  Purgatory  ....     Rev.  y.  y.  Moriarty.  130 

Extracts  from  "Catholic  Belief " 136 

Very  Rev.  Fad  Di  Bruno,  D.D. 

Purgatory  and  the  Feast  of  All  Souls    .     .     .      Allan  Butler.  143 


\ 


m\ 


w 


10 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


W' 


PART    II. 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


PAGE 


I 
I 


h! 


II 


The  Fruit  of  a  Mass   .     .     Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory.  147 

Faith  of  a  Pious  Lady    .     Ahnaiian  of  the  Souls  in  Furgatory.  149 

Pay  what  Thou  Owest Ave  Maria.  151 

Via  Crucis         Footsteps  of  Spirits.  155 

Strange  Incidents Footsteps  of  Spirits.  156 

True  Story  of  the  "  Z>6' ^r<?/'««^/>r " Ave  Maria.  159 

Confidence  Rewarded     .     Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory.  164 

Anecdoie  of  the  "  Z?^ /V<7/'('/;/^//>  " 167 

Strange  Occurrence  in  a  Persian  Prison 167 

Life  of  St.  jfohn  the  Almoner. 

A  Swiss  Protestant  Converted  by  the  Doctrine  of  Purgatoiy    .  169 

Catechism  in  Fxamples. 

The  Dead  Hand Ave  Maria.  170 

A  Beautiful  Plxample  .     .    Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory.  174 

How  to  Pay  One's  Debts  .  Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory.  I'j'j 

Faith  Rewarded     .     .     .     Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory.  179 

Apparition  of  a  Citizen  of  Aries    .     .     .  Histoire  des  Spectres.  181 

Countess  of  Strafford     ....    Vie  de  Monsgr.  de  la  Mothe.  182 

Marquis  de  Civrac Une  Commune  Vendemue.  183 

Gratitude  of  the  Holy  Souls Ave  Maria.  184 

Strange  Incident Ave  Maria.  186 


y 

\ 


i 


PART     III. 
HISTORICAL. 

Doctrine  of  Purgatory  amongst  the  Pagan  Nations  of  Antiquity  191 

Rev.  A.  A.  Lambing. 
Devotion  to  the  Dead  amongst  American  Indians     .     .     .     .202 

Superstitious  Belief  amongst  American  Indians 205 

Remembrance  of  the  Dead  amongst  the  Egyptians   .     .     .     .206 


\ 


I 
C 
I 

c 

V 

c 


i^MfcMaiii«iritiMwaaNBii;& 


4 


I 


♦ 


TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


II 


PAGP, 


Remembrance  of  the  Dead  throughout  Europe 207 

yl.  T.  Sadlia:     Part  I. 

Remembrance  of  the  Dead  throughout  Europe 219 

A.  T.  Sadlicr.     Part  IL 
Prayer  for  the  Dead  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  Church  .  Dr.  Lingard.  232 

Singular  French  Custom Voix  de  la  Vcriie.  241 

Devotion  to  the  Holy  Souls  amongst  the  Early  English     .     .  242 

A.  T.  Sadlicr. 
Doctrine  of  Purgatory  in  the  Early  Irish  Church     .     .  Walsh.  251 

Prince  Napoleon's  Prayer 253 

Helpers  of  the  Holy  Souls Lady  G.  Fullcrton.  255 

The  Mass  in  Relation  to  the  Dead O'Brien.  272 

Daniel  O'Connell,  Funeral  Oration^on  .  Rev.  T.  N'.  Burke,  O.P.  278 

Indulgence  of  the  Portiuncula 283 

Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory. 
Catherine  of  Cardona   .     .   Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory.  289 

The  Emperor  Nicholas  Praying  for  his  IMother 296 

Anecdotes  Chretiennes. 
Pius  VI.,  Funeral  Oration  on    .    Rev.  Arthur  O^Lcary,  O.S.F.  297 
Rev.  Arthur  O'Leary,  O.S.F.,  Funeral  Oration  on      ....  299 

Rev.  M.  HArcy. 
De  Mortuis.    Our  Deceased  Prelates   .   Archbishop  Corrigan,     299 


PART    IV. 

THOUGHTS  OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS  ON  PURGATORY. 

Purgatory Cardinal  N'eioman.  303 

Our  Debt  to  the  Dead Cardinal  Manning.  305 

Purgatory Cardinal  Wiseman.  307 

Reply  to  some  Misstatements  about  Purgatory 310 

Archbishop  Spalding. 

Count  de  Maistre  on  Purgatory 311 

What  the  Saints  thought  of  Purgatory 312 

Chateaubriand  on  Purgatory 314 


f 


n 


12 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


it  ■■ ' 


1" 


!l. 


PAGE 

Mary  and  the  Faithful  Departed  ....     Brother  Azat-ias.  316 

Dr.  Johnson  on  Prayer  for  the  Dead 323 

The  Doctrine  of  Purgatory Burnett.  325 

Mallock  on  Purgatory 326 

Boileau-Dcspre'aux  and  Prayer  for  the  Dead 327 

All  Saints  and  All  Souls Mrs.  Sadlicr.  328 

Leibnitz  on  the  Mass  as  a  Propitiatory  Sacrifice ...          .  329 

Extracts  from  "  A  Troubled  Heart  " 330 

Eugenie  de  Guerin  and  her  Brother  Maurice 332 

Passages  from  the  "Via  Media" Newman.  -^-^Tt 

All  Souls From  the  Fretich.  335 

An  Anglican  Bishop  Praying  for  the  Dead 336 

*'  Purgatory  "  of  Dante Mariotti.  338 

Month  of  November Mary  E.  Blake.  341 

Litany  of  the  Departed .r    .     .     .     .    Acolytus.  342 

All  Souls'  Day Mrs.  Sadlier.  344 

Cemeteries 347 

Opinions  of  Various  Protestants 348 

Some  Thoughts  for  November 351 


PART    V. 

LEGENDARY  AND  POETICAL. 

Dies  Irce 357 

Authorship  of  the  Dies  free 359 

Dante's  '■'' Furgatorio^^ ...  362 

Hamlet  and  the  Ghost SJiakespearc.  367 

Calderon's  "  Purgatory  of  St.  Patrick  " 368 

The  Brig  o'  Dread Scott.  379 

Shelley  and  the  Purgatory  of  St.  Patrick 383 

On  a  Great  Funeral Aubrey  de  Vere.  384 

Morte  d' Arthur Tennyson.  384 

Guido  and  his  Brother Collin  de  Flancy.  386 

Bcrthold  in  Purgatory Collin  de  Flamy.  387 


I 


f\ 


H 


I 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


13 


PAr.r, 

Legend  of  St.  Nicholas Co/Zm  dc  Plancy.  389 

Dream  of  Geiontius A'cwman.  390 

St.  Gregory  Releases  the  Soul  of  Trajan    .     .    Afrs.   'Jameson.  393 

St.  Gregory  and  the  Monk 395 

Legend  of  Geoffroid  d'Iden 395 

The  Queen  of  Purgatory Fabcr.  397 

The  Dead  Priest  before  the  Altar      .     .     .  Rev.  A.  y.  Ryan.  398 

Memorials  of  the  Dead R.  R.  Madden.  399 

A  Child's  "  Rcquiescat  in  Pace  "  .     .     .     .     Eliza  Allen  Starr.  400 

The  Solitary  Soul Ave  Maria.  401 

Story  of  the  Faithful  Soul Adelaide  Procter.  404 

Geiidrade,  the  Friend  of  St.  Augustine  ....  De  Plancy.  407 
St.  Thomas  Aq^unas  and  Friar  Romanus  .  .  .  De  Plancy.  409 
The  Key  that  Never  Turns     ....     Eleanor  C.  Donnelly.  411 

A  Burial Thomas  Daiis.  41 1 

Hymn  for  the  Dead N'ewman.  412 

The  Two  Students De  Plancy.  413 

The  Penance  of  Don  Diego  Riaz McGee.  416 

The  Day  of  All  Souls Eliza  Allen  Starr.  419 

Message  of  the  November  Wind      .     .     Eleanor  C.  Donnelly.  420 

Legend  of  the  Time  of  Charlemagne 42 1 

The  Dead  Mass 423 

The  Eve  of  St.  John Sir  Walter  Scott.  424 

Request  of  a  Soul  in  Purgatory 42  6 

All  Souls' Marion  Miiir.  430 

The  Dead Octave  Cremazie.  431 

A  Requiem Sir  Walter  Scott.  435 

Penance  of  Robert  the  Devil De  Plancy.  437 

All  Souls'  Eve 441 

Commemoration  of  All  Souls     .     .     .     Harriet  M.  Skidmore.  443 

The  Memory  of  the  Dead Faber.  446 

The  Holy  Souls  .  Author  of  ^^C/iristiajt  Schools  and  Scholars.^'  44S 

The  Palmer's  Rosary Eliza  Allen  Starr.  449 

A  Lyke  Wake  Dirge 450 

All  Souls'  Day Lyra  Lituri;ica.  452 

■ 


I 


n 


14 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


PACE 

The  Suffering  Souls E.  M.  V.  Bulger.  454 

'i'he  Voices  of  the  Dead M.  R.  in'' The  Lampy  \^^ 

The  Convent  Cemetery Rev.  A.  jf.  Ryan.  458 

One  Hour  after  Death Eliza  Allen  Starr.  459 

A  Prayer  for  the  Dead T.  D.  McGee.  460 

The  De  Profundis  Bell Harriet  M.  Skidtnore.  462 

November Anna  T.  Sadlier.  464 

For  the  Souls  in  Purgatory 466 

All  Souls'  Eve 468 

Our  Neighbor Eliza  Allen  Starr.  469 

Old  Bells 470 

O  Holy  Church Harriet  M.  Skidmore.  471 

An  Incident  of  the  Battle  of  Bannockburn  .  Sir  Walter  Scott.  0^12. 

Pray  for  the  Martyred  Dead 474 

In  Winter Eliza  Allen  Starr.  475 

Oremus Mary  E.  Mannix.  476 

Funeral  Hymn A.  T.  Sadlier.  476 

Chant  Fn7ilhre Nisard.  477 

Rcquicscat  in  Pace Harriet  M.  Skidmore.  478 

The  Feast  of  All  Souls  in  the  Country  .     .    Anna  T.  Sadlier.  480 
Requiem  ABternum T.  D.  McGee.  483 


1 


'4 


»M 


APPKNDIX. 


Association  of  Masses  and  Stations  of  the  Cross     ....     487 

Extracts  from  The  Catholic  Review  of  New  York 488 

A  Duty  of  November The  Texas  Monitor.  49 1 

Purgatorial  Association Catholic  Columbian.  494 

The  Holy  Face  and  the  Suffering  Souls 495 

When  will  they  Learn  its  Secret  ?     .     .     .   Baptist  Examiner.  497 


r  1    in 


•Si 


'A. 


r 


PART   I. 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL, 


"  But  now,  brethren,  if  I  come  to  you,  speaking  witli  tongues  : 

what  shall  I  profit  you,  unless  I  speak  to  you  either  in  revelation, 

or  in  knowledge,  or  in  prophecy,  or  in  doctrine  ?  " 

—St.  Paul,  I.  Cor. 


I 


■:'i{>M^,■!iJi»imtMm^■ 


■•^, 


PURGATORY: 


dogthinaLl  and  devotional. 


DOCTRINE  OF  SUAREZ  ON  PURGATORY. 

THE    PLACE. 

It  is  a  certain  truth  of  faith  that  after  this  hfc  there  is  a 
place  of  Purgatory.  Though  the  name  of  Purgatory  may 
not  be  found  in  Holy  Scripture,  that  does  not  matter,  if  \vc 
can  show  that  the  thing  meant  by  the  name  can  be  found 
there ;  for  often  the  Church,  either  because  of  new  here- 
sies, or  that  the  doctrine  of  the  faith  may  be  set  forth 
more  clearly  and  shortly,  gives  new  and  simple  names,  in 
which  the  mysteries  of  the  faith  are  summed  up.  Tiiis  is 
evident  in  the  cases  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  the  Incarnation, 
and  the  Holy  Eucharist. 

The  doctrine  of  Purgatory  is  proved  by  : — the  Old 
Testament,  the  New  Testament,  the  Councils  of  the 
Church,  especially  those  of  Florence  and  of  Trent,  tlic 
Fathers  and  Tradition,  and  by  theological  reasons. 

WHERE    PURaATORY    IS. 

Nothing  is  said  in  Holy  ^Scripture  about  this  place,  nor 
is  there  any  definition  of  the  Church  concerning  it.  The 
subject,  therefore,  comes  within  the  range  of  theological 
discussion.  Theologians,  however,  suppose  Purgatory 
to  be  a  certain  corporeal  place,  in  which  souls  are  kept 
till  they  pay  fully  the  debt  which  they  owx.     It  is  true 


$.i 


J   ii 


i^*An'Vfti»lMitn^~'^<itf'^^"'^t' 


i8 


rURGATORY. 


that  they  do  not  in  themselves  need  a  corporeal  place, 
since  they  are  spirits  ;  but  yet,  as  they  are  in  this  world, 
they  must,  of  necessity,  be  in  some  corporeal  place — 
at  any  rate,  with  regard  to  substantial  presence.  Thus 
W'C  see  that  Ciod,  in  His  providence,  has  made  definite 
places  for  the  iVngels,  according  to  the  difference  of  their 
states.  Gehenna  is  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels, 
whereas  the  empyreal  Heaven  is  made  for  the  good  an- 
gels. In  this  way,  it  is  certain  that  the  souls,  paying 
their  debt,  are  kept  in  a  corporeal  place.  This  i)lace  is 
not  heaven,  for  nothing  that  is  defiled  enters  there ;  nor 
is  it  hell,  for  in  hell  there  is  no  redemption,  and  from  that 
place  no  souls  can  be  saved. 


1 


4. 


* 


PAIN   OP   LOSS   AND   SENSE. 

The  pain  of  loss  is  the  want  of  the  vision  of  God  and 
of  the  whole  of  our  everlasting  beatitude.  The  pain  of 
sense  is  the  suffering  of  punishment  specially  inflicted 
over  and  above  the  loss  of  the  beatitude  of  Heaven. 

We  must  assert  that  the  souls  in  Purgatory  suffer  the 
pain  of  loss,  tempered  by  hope,  and  not  like  the  souls  in 
hell,  which  have  no  hope. 

In  the  pain  of  sense  we  can  distinguish  two  things. 
There  is  the  sorrow  which  follows  closely  the  w^ant  or 
delay  of  the  vision  of  God,  and  has  that  for  its  object. 
There  is  also  another  pain,  as  it  were  outward,  and  this 
is  proportioned  to  the  sensible  pain  which  is  caused  in  us 
by  fire,  or  any  like  action,  contrary  to  nature  and  hurtful 
to  it.  That  in  Purgatory  this  sorrow  does  follow  the  loss 
of  God  is  most  certain  ;  for  that  loss,  or  dcla}^,  is  truly  a 
great  evil,  and  is  most  keenly  felt  to  be  such  by  those 
souls  that  with  all  their  strength  love  God  and  long  to 
see  Him.  Therefore,  it  is  impossible  for  them  not  to  feel 
the  greatest  sorrow  about  that  delay. 


% 


* 


« 


I 


.^>f^.  A     ■■  ■■■'■•  [-vir-  Tir"' "-"11  '"hiifti'ir 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL 


^ 


19 


1^. 


We  must  assert  that,  besides  the  pain  of  loss  and  the 
sorrow  annexed  to  it,  there  is  in  l^iri^atory  a  proper  and 
peculiar  pain  of  sense.  This  is  the  more  eomnion  judi^- 
ment  of  the  scholastics;  and  seems  to  be  received  by  the 
common  judgment  and  api)r()bation  of  the  Church.  In- 
deed, the  equity  of  the  avenging  justice  of  God  requires 
this.  The  sinner,  through  inordinate  delight  in  creat- 
ures and  affection  for  them,  deserves  a  punishment  con- 
trary to  that  delight ;  and  if  in  this  life  he  has  not  made 
full  satisfaction,  he  must  be  punished  and  freed  by  some 
such  pain  as  this,  which  we  call  the  pain  of  sense.  Theo- 
logians in  common  teach  this,  and  distinguish  a  proper 
pain  of  sense  from  the  sorrow  caused  by  the  want  of  the 
vision  of  God.  Thus  they  distinguish  spiritual  pains, 
such  as  sorrow  for  the  delay  of  the  vision,  and  remorse 
of  conscience,  from  corporeal  pains,  which  come  from  the 
fire,  or  any  other  instrument  of  God.  These  corporeal 
pains  we  comprehend  under  the  pain  of  sense. 

*  -X-  •5!-  •::•  -X-  -X-  * 

Whether,  besides  the  fire,  other  corporeal  things,  such 
as  water  and  snow,  are  used  as  instruments  for  punishing 
the  souls  is  uncertain.  Bede  says  that  souls  in  Purgatory 
were  seen  to  pass  from  very  great  heat  to  very  great 
cold,  and  then  from  cold  to  heat.  St.  Anselm  mentions 
these  punishments  disjunctively.  He  says,  "  or  any  other 
kind  of  punishments."  We  cannot,  therefore,  speak  of 
this  with  certainty. 


U 


* 


* 


THE   PAIN   OP   LOSS. 

In  this  matter  we  may  look  at  the  pain  of  loss  as  well 
as  the  pain  of  sense.  It  is  certain  that  the  pain  of  loss  is 
very  sharp,  because  of  the  greatness  of  the  good  for  which 
they  wait.  True,  it  is  only  for  a  time ;  yet  it  is  rightly 
reckoned,  as  St.  Thomas  taught,  a  greater  evil  than  any 
loss  in  this  life.  He  and  other  theologians  with  him  mean 
that  the  sorrow  also  which  springs  from  the  apprehension 
of  this   evil  is  greater  than   any   pain    or   sorrow  here. 


►ywfes^jimigniiO"'  'o  • 


1 


20 


rURGATORY. 


ITcncc,  they  conclude  tliat  tlie  pain  of  loss  In  every  way 
exceeds  all  pains  of  this  life  ;  for  tliey  think,  as  I  have  al- 
ready noted,  tliat  this  sorrow  pertains  to  the  pain  of  loss, 
and  tiicrefore  thcv  join  tliis  pain  with  privation,  that  the 
punishment  may  be  j^reater  in  ever}'  way.  .  .  .  The 
vision  of  Ciod  and  the  beatitude  of  heaven  are  sucHi  that 
tlie  possession  of  them,  even  for  a  day,  coidd  exceed  all 
<^oods  of  this  life  taken  toi^'cther  and  possessed  for  a  lon^^ 
time.  .  .  .  Therefore,  even  a  short  delay  of  such  a 
good  is  a  very  heavy  sorrow,  far  exceeding-  all  the  pains 
of  this  life.  The  Holy  Souls  well  imderstand  and  weigh 
the  greatness  of  this  evil ;  and  very  piercing  is  the  pain 
they  feel,  because  they  know  that  they  are  suffering 
through  their  own  negligence  and  by  their  own  fault. 
.  .  .  There  are,  however,  certain  things  which  would 
seem  to  have  power  to  lessen  their  pain : 

1.  They  are  certain  of  future  glory.  This  hope  must 
bring  them  much  joy  ;  as  St.  Paul  says,  "  rejoicing  in 
hope."     (Roms.  xii.  12.) 

2.  There  is  the  Tightness  of  their  will,  by  which  they 
are  conformed  to  the  justice  of  God.  Hence,  it  follows 
that,  in  a  certain  sense,  their  pain  is  voluntary,  and  thus 
not  so  severe. 

3.  By  the  love  of  God  they  not  only  bear  their  punish- 
ment, but  rejoice  in  it,  because  they  see  that  it  is  the 
means  of  satisfying  God  and  being  brought  to  Heaven. 

4.  If  they  choose,  they  can  turn  their  thoughts  from  the 
pain  of  delay,  and  give  them  very  attentively  to  the  good 
of  hope.     This  would  bring  them  consolation. 

*  *  *  *  %  '/:  -15- 

THE   PAIN   OF   SENSE. 

It  is  the  common  judgment  of  theologians,  with  St. 
Augustine,  St.  Thomas,  and  St.  Bonaventure,  that  this 
pain  is  bitterer  than  all  pain  of  this  life.  .  .  .  Theo- 
logians, in  common  with  St.  Thomas  and  St.  Bonaven- 
ture, teach  that  the  pain  of  Purgatory  is  not  in  any  way 
inflicted  by  devils.     These  souls  are  just  and  holy.   They 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DKVOTIONAL. 


21 


cannot  sin  an}-  more  ;  and,  to  the  last,  they  liavc  over- 
come tlic  assaults  of  the  devils.  It  would  nc^t,  tliercfore, 
be  littinu^  that  such  souls  sliould  bc^iven  into  their  [)0\ver 
to  be  tormented  by  Ihem.  iVi^ain,  w  lien  the  devils  temj)L 
wayfarers,  they  do  it  because  they  hope  to  lead  them  into 
sin,  however  ])erfect  they  may  be;  but  they  could  have 
no  such  \u)\)C  about  the  souls  in  Turj^atory,  and  so  would 
not  be  lik'cly  to  tempt  them.  Besides,  they  know  that 
their  temptations  or  harassings  would  have  an  effect  not 
intended  by  them,  and  would  bring  the  souls  from  Pur- 
gatory to  Heaven  more  quickly. 

ii  -iv  ^v  vv  %v-  -.i  •:> 

It  is  the  common  law  that  souls  in  Purgatory,  during 

the  whole  time  that  they  are  there,  cannot  come  out  from 

the  prison,  even  if  they  wish.     The    constant  closing  of 

the  prison-doors  is  a  part  of  the  severity  of  their  punisli- 

ment.     So  teach   St.  John   Chrysostom,  St.   Athanasius, 

and  vSt.  Augustine.     .     .     .     The  reason  for  this  is  the 

law  of  the  justice  of  God.     The  souls  of  the  lost  arc  kept 

in  prison  by  force  and  against  their  will.     The  souls  in 

Purgatory  stay  there  willingly,  for  they  understand  the 

just  will  of  God  and  submit  to  it.    This  law,  however,  can 

be  sometimes  dispensed  with  ;  and  so  wSt.  Augustine  holds 

it  to  be  probable  that  there  are  often  true  apparitions  of 

the  Holy  Souls  by  the  permission  of  God.     ...     It  is 

true  that,  as  a  rule,  these  are  apparitions  of  souls,  who, 

by  a  special  decree  of  God,  are  suffering  their  Purgatory 

somewhere  in  this  world.     .     .     .     Gne  thing,  however, 

we  must  note  in  these  cases.     When  such  a  permission  is 

given,  the  pain  of  the  soul  is  not  interrupted.     This  is 

not  only  seen  from  the  visions  themselves,  but  is  what 

reason  requires. 

*  *  •x-  -;{•  *  -:j  * 

Here  occurs  the  question  whether  the  Holy  Souls  pray 
for  us  and  can  gain  anything  for  us  by  merit  of  congruity, 
or,  at  least,  impetrate  it  for  us,  as  others  prefer  to  say. 
Some  have  said  that  they  do  not  thus  pray  for  us,  because 
it  is  not  fitting  to  their  state,  in  that  they  are  debtors  and, 


aii! 


iir 


i    I 


I. 


'} 


I  I; 


22  rURGATORY. 

as  it  were,  kept  in  prison  for  their  debts  ;  and  also  be- 
cause they  do  not  see  God,  and  so  do  not  ivnovv  what  is 
done  here.  They  niij;ht  know  such  things  by  special 
revelations,  but  revelations  of  this  kind  are  net  due  to 
their  state.  But  surely  their  penal  state  does  not  neces- 
sarily liinder  the  Holy  Souls  Ironi  prayinL:^  for,  and  inipe- 
tratin<^  for  us.  They  are  holy  and  tlear  to  Ciod  ;  and  they 
love  us  with  cliarity,  renieml3erin<^^  us,  and  knowini,'',  at 
least  in  a  j^enenil  way,  the  danj^ers  in  which  we  live  ; 
they  iniderstand  also  how  greatly  we  need  the  help  of 
Ciod:  why,  then,  should  they  not  be  able  to  pray  for  us, 
even  though  in  another  way  they  are  payinj^  to  God  their 
debt  of  punishment  ?  For  we  also  in  this  life  arc  debtors 
to  God,  and  yet  we  pray  for  others.  .  .  .  Besides,  wc 
may  well  believe  that  the  Holy  Angels  make  revelations 
to  the  soids  in  Purgatory  about  their  relatives  or  friends 
still  living  on  this  earth.  They  will  do  this  for  the  con- 
solation of  the  Holy  Souls,  or  that  they  may  know  what 
to  ask  for  us  in  particular  cases,  or  that  they  may  know 
of  our  prayers  for  them. 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


23 


ST.  CATHARINE    OF    GENOA  ON    PUROATORT. 

This  Hoi)  Soul,  while  still  in  the  flesh,  was  placed  in 
the  purj^atory  of  the  burning  love  of  God,  in  whose 
flames  she  wa§  purified  from  every  stain,  so  that  when 
she  passed  from  this  life  she  might  be  ready  to  enter  the 
presence  of  God,  her  most  sweet  love.  By  means  of  that 
flame  of  love  she  comprehended  in  her  own  soul  the  con- 
dition of  the  souls  of  the  faithful  in  Purgatory,  where 
they  are  purified  from  the  rust  and  stain  of  sins,  from 
which  they  have  not  been  cleansed  in  this  world.  And  as 
in  the  purgatory  of  that  divine  flame  she  was  united  with 
the  divine  love  and  satisfied  with  all  that  was  accom- 
plished in  her,  she  was  enabled  to  comprehend  the  state 
of  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  and  thus  discoursed  concern- 
ing it : 

"  As  far  as  I  can  see,  the  souls  in  Purgatory  can  have 
no  choice  but  be  there ;  this  God  has  most  justly  or- 
dained by  His  divine  decree.  They  cannot  turn  towards 
themselves  and  say,  '  I  have  committed  such  and  such 
sins  for  which  I  deserve  to  remain  here ;  *  nor  can  they 
say,  '  Would  that  I  had  refrained  from  them,  for  then  I 
should  at  this  moment  be  in  Paradise ; '  nor  again,  *  This 
soul  will  be  released  before  me ; '  or,  *  I  shall  be  released 
before  her.'  They  retain  no  memory  of  either  good  or 
evil  respecting  themselves  or  others  which  would  increase 
their  pain.  They  arc  so  contented  with  the  divine  inspi- 
rations in  their  regard,  and  with  doing  all  that  is  pleasing 
to  God  in  that  way  which  he  chooses,  that  they  cannot 
think  of  themselves,  though  they  may  strive  to  do  so. 
They  see  nothing  but  the  operation  of  the  divine  good- 
ness which  is  so  manifestly  bringing  them  to  God  that 
they  can  reflect  neither  on  their  own  profit  nor  on  their 
hurt.  Could  they  do  so,  they  would  not  be  in  pure 
charity.  They  see  not  that  they  suffer  their  pains  in  con- 
sequence of  their  sins,  nor  can  they  for  a  moment  enter- 


24 


PURGATORY. 


-■    ? 


tain  that  thought,  for  should  they  do  so  it  would  be  an 
active  imperfection,  and  that  cannot  exist  in  a  state  where 
there  is  no  longer  the  possibility  of  sin.  At  the  moment 
of  leaving  this  life,  they  see  why  they  are  sent  to  Purga- 
tory, but  never  again ;  otherwise  they  would  still  retain 
something  private,  which  has  no  place  there.  Being  es- 
tablished in  charity,  they  can  never  deviate  therefrom  by 
any  defect,  and  have  no  will  or  desire  save  the  pure  will 
of  pure  love,  and  can  swerve  from  it  in  nothing.  They 
can  neither  commit  sin  nor  merit  by  refraining  from  it. 
*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

"There  is  no  peace  to  be  compared  with  that  of  the 
souls  in  Purgatory,  save  that  of  the  saints  in  Paradise, 
and  this  peace  is  ever  augmented  by  the  inflowing  of  God 
into  these  souls,  which  increases  in  proportion  as  the  im- 
pediments to  it  are  removed.  The  rust  of  sin  is  the  im- 
pediment, and  this  the  fire  continually  consumes,  so  that 
the  soul  in  this  state  is  continually  opening  itself  to  admit 
the  divine  communication.  As  a  covered  surface  can 
never  reflect  the  sun,  not  through  any  defect  in  that  orb, 
but  simply  from  the  resistance  offered  by  the  covering, 
so,  if  the  covering  be  gradually  removed,  the  surface  will 
by  little  and  little  be  opened  to  the  sun  and  will  more  and 
more  reflect  his  light. 

**  So  it  is  with  the  rust  of  sin,  which  is  the  covering  of 
the  soul.  In  Purgatory  the  flames  incessantly  consume 
it,  and  as  it  disappears  the  soul  reflects  more  and  more 
perfectly  the  true  sun,  who  is  God.  Its  contentment  in- 
creases as  this  rust  wears  away,  and  the  soul  is  laid  bare 
to  the  divine  ray ;  and  thus  one  increases  and  the  other 
decreases  until  the  time  is  accomplished.  The  pain  never 
diminishes,  although  the  time  does ;  but,  as  to  the  will,  so 
united  is  it  to  God  by  pure  charity,  and  so  satisfied  to  be 
under  His  divine  appointment,  that  these  souls  can  never 
say  their  pains  are  pains. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  true  that  they  suffer  torments 
which  no  tongue  can  describe  nor  any  intelligence  com- 
prehend, unless  it  be  revealed  by  such  a  special  grace  as 


81 
It 

si 
ev 
ca 


will  I 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


25 


that  which  God  has  vouchsafed  to  me,  but  which  I  am 
unable  to  explain.  And  this  vision  which  God  revealed 
to  me  has  never  departed  from  my  memory.  I  will  de- 
scribe it  as  far  as  I  am  able,  and  they  whose  intellects 
our  Lord  will  deign  to  open  will  understand  me. 

-X-  'A  -/.-  '/:  %  vV  -X- 

**  The  source  of  all  suffering  is  either  original  or  actual 
sin.  God  created  the  soul  pure,  simple,  free  from  every 
stain,  and  with  a  certain  beatific  instinct  towards  Himself. 
It  is  drawn  aside  from  Him  by  original  sin,  and  when  actual 
sin  is  afterwards  added  this  withdraws  it  still  farther,  and 
ever,  as  it  removes  from  Him,  its  sinfulness  increases  be- 
cause its  communication  with  God  grows  less  and  less. 
-:^-  -X-  -»  '^  -X-  -:t  vt 

"  Since  the  souls  in  Purgatory  are  freed  from  the  guilt 
of  sin,  there  is  no  barrier  between  them  and  God  save 
only  the  pains  they  suffer,  which  delay  the  satisfaction  of 
their  desire.  And  when  they  see  how  serious  is  even  the 
slightest  hindrance,  which  the  necessity  of  justice  causes 
to  check  them,  a  vehement  flame  kindles  within  them, 
which  is  like  that  of  hell.  They  feel  no  guilt,  however, 
and  it  is  guilt  which  is  the  cause  of  the  malignant  will  of 
the  condemned  in  hell,  to  whom  God  does  not  communi- 
cate His  goodness;  and  thus  they  remain  in  despair  and 
with  a  will  forever  opposed  to  the  good-will  of  God. 
*  «  *  '.i  -:;•  vV  * 

"  The  souls  in  Purgatory  are  entirely  conformed  to  the 
will  of  God ;  therefore,  they  correspond  with  His  good- 
ness, are  contented  with  all  that  He  ordains,  and  are  en- 
tirely purified  from  the  guilt  of  their  sins.  They  are  pure 
from  sins  because  they  have  in  this  life  abhorred  them  and 
confessed  them  with  true  contrition ;  and  for  this  reason 
God  remits  their  guilt,  so  that  only  the  stains  of  sin  re- 
main, and  these  must  be  devoured  by  the  fire.  Thus 
freed  from  guilt  and  united  to  the  will  of  God,  they  see 
Him  clearly  according  to  that  degree  of  light  which  He 
allows  them,  and  comprehend  how  great  a  good  is  the 
fruition  of  God,  for  which  all  souls  were  created.     Morc- 


ti 


II 


26 


PURGATORY. 


over,  these  souls  are  in  such  close  conformity  to  God  and 
are  drawn  so  powerfully  toward  Him  by  reason  of  the 
natural  attraction  between  Him  and  the  soul,  that  no 
illustration  or  comparison  could  make  this  impetuosity 
understood  in  the  way  in  which  my  spirit  conceives  it  by 
its  interior  sense.  Nevertheless,  I  will  use  one  which 
occurs  to  me. 

"  Let  us  suppose  that  in  the  whole  world  there  were 
but  one  loaf  to  appease  the  hunger  of  every  creature,  and 
that  the  bare  sight  of  it  would  satisfy  them.  Now  man, 
when  in  health,  has  by  nature  the  instinct  for  food,  but 
if  we  can  suppose  him  to  abstain  from  it  and  neither  die, 
nor  yet  lose  health  and  strength,  his  hunger  would  clearly 
become  increasingly  urgent.  In  this  case,  if  he  knew  that 
nothing  but  this  loaf  would  satisfy  him,  and  that  until  he 
reached  it  his  hunger  could  not  be  appeased,  he  would 
suffer  intolerable  pain,  which  would  increase  as  his  dis- 
tance from  the  loaf  diminished  ;  but  if  he  were  sure  that  he 
would  never  see  it,  his  hell  would  be  as  complete  as  that 
of  the  damned  soyls,  who,  hungering  after  God,  have  no 
hope  of  ever  seeing  the  bread  of  life.  But  the  souls  in 
Purgatory  have  an  assured  hope  of  seeing  Him  and  of 
being  entirely  satisfied ;  and  therefore  they  endure  all 
hunger  and  suffer  all  pain  until  that  moment  when  they 
enter  into  eternal  possession  of  this  bread,  which  is  Jesus 
Christ,  our  Lord,  our  Saviour,  and  our  Lov^e. 

•?!•  *  -:f  *  -»  -X-  -;<- 

"  I  will  say,  furthermore  :  I  see  that  as  far  as  God  is 
concerned.  Paradise  has  no  gates,  but  he  who  will  may 
enter.  For  God  is  all  mercy,  and  His  open  arms  are  ever 
extended  to  receive  us  into  His  glory.  But  I  see  that 
the  divine  essence  is  so  pure — purer  than  the  imagination 
can  conceive — that  the  soul,  finding  in  itself  the  slightest 
imperfection,  would  rather  cast  itself  into  a  thousand 
hells  than  appear,  so  stained,  in  the  presence  of  the  divine 
majest}'.  Knowing,  then,  that  Purgatory  was  intended 
for  her  cleansing,  she  throws  herself  therein,  and  finds 
there  that  great  mercy,  the  removed  of  her  stains. 


»i 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


27 


"  The  great  importance  of  Purgatory,  neither  mind  can 
conceive  nor  tongue  describe.  I  see  only  that  its  pains 
are  as  great  as  those  of  hell ;  and  yet  I  see  that  a  soul, 
stained  with  the  slightest  fault,  receiving  this  mercy, 
counts  the  pains  as  nought  in  comparison  with  this  hin- 
drance to  her  love.  And  I  know  that  the  greatest  misery 
of  the  souls  in  Purgatory  is  to  behold  in  themselves  aught 
that  displeases  God,  and  to  discover  that,  in  spite  of  His 
goodness,  they  had  consented  to  it.  And  this  is  because, 
being  in  the  state  of  grace,  they  sec  the  reality  and  the 
importance  of  the  impediments  which  hinder  their  ap- 
proach to  God. 

-;<-  -^  •»  -K-  *  *  ^i 

"  From  that  furnace  of  divine  love  I  sec  rays  of 
fire  dart  like  burning  lamps  towards  the  soul ;  and  so 
violent  and  powerful  are  they  that  both  soul  and  body 
would  be  utterly  destroyed,  if  that  were  possible.  These 
rays  perform  a  double  office ;  they  purify  and  they  an- 
nihilate. 

"  Consider  gold  :  the  oftener  it  is  melted  the  more  pure 
does  it  become ;  continue  to  melt  it  and  every  imperfec- 
tion is  destroyed.  This  is  the  effect  of  fire  on  all  ma- 
terials. The  soul,  however,  cannot  be  annihilated  in 
God,  but  in  herself  she  can,  and  the  longer  her  purifica- 
tion lasts  the  more  perfectly  does  she  die  to  herself,  until 
at  length  she  remains  purified  in  God. 

"  When  gold  has  been  completely  freed  from  dross,  no 
fire,  however  great,  has  any  further  action  on  it,  for 
nothing  but  its  imperfections  can  be  consumed.  So  it  is 
with  the  divine  fire  in  the  soul.  God  retains  her  in  these 
flames  until  every  stain  is  burned  awa}',  and  she  is  brought 
to  the  highest  perfection  of  which  she  is  capable,  each 
soul  in  her  own  degree.  And  when  this  is  accomplished, 
she  rests  wholly  in  God.  Nothing  of  herself  remains,  and 
God  is  her  entire  being.  When  He  has  thus  led  her  to 
Himself  and  purified  her,  she  is  no  longer  passible,  for 
nothing  remains  to  be  consumed.  If,  when  thus  refined, 
she  should  again  approach  the  fire  she  would  feel  no  pain, 


I 


1 


l<    ! 


28 


PURGATORY. 


for  to  her  it  has  become  the  fire  of  divine  love,  which  is 
life  eternal  and  which  nothing  mars." 

*  -X-  vf  %  *  *  * 

And  thus  this  blessed  Soul,  illuminated  by  the  divine 
ray,  said  :  "  Would  that  I  could  utter  so  strong  a  cry  that 
it  would  strike  all  men  with  terror,  and  say  to  them  :  () 
wretched  beings  !  why  are  you  so  blinded  by  this  world 
that  you  make,  as  you  will  find  at  the  hour  of  death, 
no  provision  for  the  great  necessity  that  will  then  come 
upon  you  ? 

'*  You  shelter  yourselves  beneath  the  hope  of  the  mercy 
of  God,  which  you  unceasingly  exalt,  not  seeing  that  it 
is  your  resistance  to  His  great  goodness  which  will  be 
your  condemnation.  His  goodness  should  constrain  you 
to  His  will,  not  encourage  you  to  persevere  in  your  own. 
Since  His  justice  is  unfailing,  it  must  needs  be  in  some 
way  fully  satisfied. 

"  Have  not  the  boldness  to  say  :  '  I  will  go  to  confession 
and  gain  a  plenary  indulgence,  and  thus  I  shall  be  saved  ?' 
Remember  that  the  full  confession  and  entire  contrition 
which  are  requisite  to  gain  a  plenary  indulgence  are  not 
easily  attained.  Did  you  know  how  hardly  they  are 
come  by,  you  would  tremble  with  fear  and  be  more  sure 
of  losing  than  of  gaining  them." 


r 


: 


I 

I 


anthil 
prise 

3, 

siderl 
not 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


\ 


29 


EXTRACTS  FROM  THE   FATHERS.' 

St.  Cyprian  ^  writes  :  **  Our  predecessors  prudently 
advised  that  no  brother,  departing  this  life  should  nomi- 
nate any  churchman  his  executor ;  and  should  he  do  it, 
that  no  oblation  should  be  made  for  him,  nor  sacrifice  of- 
fered for  his  repose ;  of  which  we  have  had  a  late  exam- 
ple, when  no  oblation  was  made,  nor  prayer,  in  his  name, 
offered  in  the  Church."  ^ 

Origen,  who  wrote  in  the  same  century  as  Cyprian, 
and  some  two  hundred  years  after  Christ,  speaks  as  fol- 
lows, in  language  the  most  distinct,  upon  our  doctrine  of 
Purgatory  :  *'  When  we  depart  this  life,  if  we  take  with 
us  virtues  or  vices,  shall  we  receive  reward  for  our  vir- 
tues, and  shall  those  trespasses  be  forgiven  to  us  which 
we  knowingly  committed  ;  or  shall  we  be  punished  for 
our  faults,  and  not  receive  the  reward  of  our  virtues  ? 
Neither  is  true :  because  we  shall  suffer  for  our  sins  and 
receive  the  reward  of  our  virtues.  For  if  on  the  founda- 
tion of  Christ  you  shall  have  built  not  only  gold  and  sil- 
ver and  precious  stones,  but  also  wood  and  hay  and  stub- 
ble, what  do  you  expect  when  the  soul  shall  be  separated 
from  the  body  ?  Would  you  enter  into  Heaven  with  your 
wood,  and  hay,  and  stubble,  to  defile  the  Kingdom  of 
God  ;  or  on  account  of  those  encumbrances  remain  with- 
out, and  receive  no  reward  for  your  gold  and  silver  and 
precious  stones  ?  Neither  is  this  just.  It  remains,  then, 
that  you  be  committed  to  the  fire,  which  shall  consume 

*  These  extracts  are  purposely  difierent  from  those  quoted  by  the  learned 
author  of  "  Purgatory  Surveyed,"  in  that  portion  of  his  treatise  herein  com- 
prised. 

-  Ep.,  xlvi.,  p.  114. 

^Cardinal  Wiseman  commenting  upon  this  passage,  says  :  "  It  was  con- 
sidered, therefore,  a  severe  punishment,  that  prayers  and  sacrifices  should 
not  be  offered  up  for  those  who  had  violated  any  of  the  ecclesiastical  laws. 
— Lectures  on  the  Catholic  Church.     Lecture  xi.,  p.  59. 


'   ^  \ !  E 


I. 


\'* 


•i    ! 


I    i 


.    4 


30 


PURGATORY. 


the  light  materials  ;  for  our  God,  to  those  who  can  com- 
prehend heavenly  things,  is  called  a  consuming  fire.  But 
this  fire  consumes  not  the  creature,  but  what  the  creature 
has  himself  built — wood,  and  hay,  and  stubble.  It  is 
manifest  that,  in  the  first  place,  the  fire  destroys  the  wood 
of  our  transgressions,  and  then  returns  to  us  the  reward 
of  our  good  works."  ' 

St.  Basil,  or  a  contemporary  author,  thus  writes,  com- 
menting on  the  words  of  Isaiah  :  "  Through  the  wrath  of 
the  Lord  is  the  land  burned  ;  the  things  which  are  earthly 
are  made  the  food  of  a  punishing  fire ;  to  the  end,  that 
the  soul  may  receive  favor  and  be  benefited."  He  con- 
tinues :  "  And  the  people  shall  be  as  the  fuel  of  the  fire." 
[Ibid.)  This  is  not  a  threat  of  extermination  ;  but  it  de- 
notes expurgation,  ^  according  to  the  expression  of  the 
Apostles :  "  If  any  man's  works  burn,  he  shall  suffer  loss, 
but  he  himself  shall  be  saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire."  (i  Cor. 
iii.  15.)'^ 

The  following  is  from  St.  Ephrem,  of  Edessa  :  "  My 
brethren,  come  to  me,  and  prepare  me  for  my  departure, 
for  my  strength  is  wholly  gone.  Go  along  with  me  in 
psalms  and  in  your  prayers ;  and  please  constantly  to 
make  oblations  for  me.  When  the  thirtieth  day  ^  shall  be 
completed,  then  remember  me  :  for  the  dead  are  helped 
by  the  offerings  of  the  living.  If  also  the  sons  of  Matha- 
thias,  who  celebrated  their  feasts  in  figures  onlv,  could 
cleanse  those  from  guilt  by  their  offerings  wdio  fell  in  bat- 


<»% 


'  Homil.  xvi.  al.  xii.  in  Jcrem.  T.  iii.,  p.  231,  232. 

*  Cardinal  Wiseman  in  commenting  upon  this  passage,  sa)-s  :  "Now, 
mark  well  the  word  purgation  here  useil.  For  it  proves  that  our  very  term 
of  Purgatory  is  not  modern  in  the  Church." — Lectures  on  the  Catholic  Church. 
Lecture  xi.,  p.  Go. 

^Com.  in  C,  ix.  Isai.  T.  L,  p.  554. 

^"  The  very  day,"  says  Cardinal  Wiseman,  "observed  by  the  Catholic 
Church  v/ith  peculiar  solemnity,  in  praying  and  observing  Mass  for  the 
dead."  Archbisiiop  Corrigan,  of  New  York,  in  announcing  to  the  clergy 
of  his  diocese  the  death  of  His  Eminence  the  lat'!  Cardinal  McCloskey, 
speaks  as  follows  :  "  The  reverend  rectors  are  aP 0  roquested  to  have  solemn 
services  for  the  soul  of  our  late  beloved  chief  pastor,  on  the  seventh  and 
thirtieth  day." 


1 

f 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


31 


"  ■ 


tic,  how  much  more  shall  the   priests  of  Ciirlst  aid  the 
dead  by  their  oblations  and  j^rayers?  "  ' 

Thus  speaks  St.  Gregory  of  Nyssa:  "In  the  i)rcs- 
cnt  life,  God  allows  man  to  remain  subject  to  what  him- 
self has  chosen ;  that,  having  tasted  of  the  evil  which  he 
desired,  and  learned  by  experience  how  bad  an  exchange 
has  been  made,  he  might  feel  an  ardent  wish  to  lay  down 
the  load  of  those  vices  and  inclinations,  which  arc  con- 
trary to  reason;  and  thus,  in  this  life,  being  renovated  by 
prayers  and  the  pursuit  of  wisdom,  or,  in  the  next,  being 
expiated  by  the  purging  fire,  he  might  recover  the  state 
of  happiness  which  he  had  lost.  .  .  .  When  he  has 
quitted  his  body,  and  the  difference  between  virtue  and 
vice  is  knovv^n,  he  cannot  be  admitted  to  approach  the 
Divinity  till  the  purging  fire  shall  have  expiated  the 
stains  with  which  his  soul  was  infected.  The  same  fire, 
in  others,  will  cancel  the  corruption  of  matter  and  the 
propensity  to  evil."^ 

St.  Cyrii<  of  Jerusalem  :  "  Then  "  (in  the  Liturgy  of  the 
Church)  *'  we  pray  for  the  holy  Fathers  and  Bishops  that 
are  dead ;  and,  in  short,  for  all  those  who  are  dej)arted 
this  life  in  our  communion  ;  believing  that  the  souls  of 
those,  for  whom  the  prayers  are  offered,  receive  very 
great  relief  while  this  holy  and  tremendous  victim  lies 
upon  the  altar."  •' 

St.  Epiphanius  writes :  ''  There  is  nothing  more  op- 
portune, nothing  more  to  be  admired,  than  the  rite 
which  directs  the  names  of  the  dead  to  be  mentioned. 
They  are  aided  by  the  prayer  that  is  offered  for  them, 
though  it  may  not  cancel  all  their  faults.  We  mention 
both  the  just  and  sinners,  in  order  that  for  the  latter  we 
may  obtain  mercy."  * 

St.  Augustine  speaks  as  follows :  "  The  prayers  of 
the  Church,  or  of  good  persons,  are  heard  in  favor  of 


m 


i    ': 


'  In  Testament.  T.  ii.,  p.  334.     p.  371,  Edit.  Oxen. 
^  Orat.  de  Defunctis.  T.  ii.,  p.  1066,  1067,  1068. 
2  Catech.  Mystag.,  V.  N.,  ix.,  x.,  p.  328. 
4  Ilaer.  IV.  Lib.  LXXV.,  T.  i.,  p.  911. 


M 


1 1 


32 


rURGATORY. 


those  Christians  who  departed  this  life  not  so  bad  as  to  be 
deemed  unworthy  of  mercy,  nor  so  good  as  to  be  entitled 
to  immediate  happiness.  So  also,  at  the  resurrection  of 
the  dead,  there  will  some  be  found,  to  whom  mercy  will 
be  imparted,  having  gone  through  these  pains,  to  which 
the  spirits  of  the  dead  arc  liable.  Otherwise  it  would 
not  have  been  said  of  some  with  truth,  that  their  sin 
shall  not  be  forgiven,  neither  in  this  world  nor  in  the  world 
to  come  (Matt,  xii.,  32)  unless  some  sins  were  remitted  in 
the  next  world."  ^ 

In  another  passage  he  comments  on  the  words  of  St. 
Paul :  "  If  they  had  built  £-oM  and  si'h'rr  and  prcciotis 
stones,  they  would  be  secure  from  both  fires  ;  not  only 
from  that  in  which  the  wicked  shall  be  punished  for  ever, 
but  likewise  from  that  fire  which  will  purify  those  who 
shall  be  saved  by  fire.  But  because  it  is  said  Jie  shall  be 
saved,  that  fire  is  thought  lightly  of;  though  the  suffering 
will  be  more  grievous  than  anything  man  can  undergo  in 
this  life." 

Let  us  hear  St.  Jerome  :  ^  "As  we  believe  the  torments 
of  the  devil,  and  of  those  wicked  men  who  said  in  their 
hearts  there  is  no  God,  to  be  eternal,  so,  in  regard  to  those 
sinners  who  have  not  denied  their  faith,  and  whose  works 
will  be  proved  and  purged  by  fire,  we  conclude  that  the 
sentence  of  the  Judge  will  be  tempered  by  mercy." 

St.  Jerome  thus  speaks  in  his  letter  to  Paula,  concern- 
ing the  death  and  burial  of  her  mother,  Eustochium  : 
*'  From  henceforward  there  were  no  wailings  nor  lamen- 
tations as  arc  usual  amongst  men  of  this  world,  but  the 
swarms  of  those  present  resounded  with  psalms  in  vari- 
ous tongues.  And  being  removed  by  the  hands  of  the 
bishops,  and  by  those  placing  their  shoulders  under  the 
bier,  while  other  pontiffs  were  carrying  lamps  and  wax 
tapers,  and  others  led  the  choirs  of  psalmodists,  she  was 
laid  in  the  middle  of  the  church  of  the  cave  of  the 
Saviour Psalms   resounded  in  the  Hebrew, 

'  Dc  Civit.  Dei.,  Lib,  XXL,  c.  xxiv.,  p.  492. 
*  Comment,  in  c.  Ixv.,  Isai.,  T.  ii.,  p.  492. 


\  • 


DvOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


33 


I. 


Greek,  Latin,  and  Syriac  tongues,  not  only  during  the 
three  days  intervening  until  she  was  laid  under  the 
church  and  near  the  cave  of  the  Lord,  but  through  the 
entire  week." 

St.  Ambrose  has  many  passages  throughout  his 
works,  as  Dr.  Wiseman  remarks.  Thus  he  quotes  St. 
Paul's  First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians  (iii.,  5):  "  *  If  any 
man's  works  burn  he  shall  suffer  loss  ;  but  he  shall  be 
saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire.'  He  will  be  saved,  the  Apostle 
said,  because  his  substance  shall  remain,  while  his  bad 
doctrine  shall  perish.  Therefore,  he  said,  yet  so  as  by 
fire,  in  order  that  his  salvation  be  not  understood  to  be 
without  pain.  He  shows  that  he  shall  be  saved  indeed, 
but  he  shall  undergo  the  pain  of  fire,  and  be  thus  puri- 
fied, not  like  the  unbelieving  and  wicked  man  who  shall 
be  punished  in  everlasting  fire.^  " 

The  following  is  from  his  funeral  oration  on  the  Em- 
peror Theodosius :  "  Lately  we  deplored  together  his 
death,  and  now,  while  Prince  Honorius  is  present  before 
our  altars,  we  celebrate  the  fortieth  day.  Some  observe 
the  third  and  the  thirtieth,  others  the  seventh  and  the 
fortieth.  Give,  O  Lord,  rest  to  Thy  servant  Theodosius, 
that  rest  which  Thou  hast  prepared  for  Thy  Saints.  May 
his  soui  thither  tend,  whence  it  came,  where  it  cannot 
feel  the  sting  of  death,  where  it  will  learn  that  death  is  the 
termination,  not  of  nature,  but  of  sin.  I  loved  him,  there- 
fore will  I  follow  him  to  the  land  of  the  living  ;  I  will  not 
leave  him,  till,  by  my  prayers  and  lamentation,  he  shall 
be  admitted  to  the  holy  mount  of  the  Lord  to  which  his 
deserts  call  him."  ^ 

He  thus  concludes  his  letter  to  St.  Faustinus  on  the 
death  of  his  sister :  "  Therefore  I  consider  her  not  so 
much  to  be  deplored  as  to  be  followed  by  our  prayers, 
nor  do  I  think  that  her  soul  should  be  saddened  with 
tears,  but  rather  commended  to  the  Lord  in  oblations. 
For  our  flesh    cannot  be   perpetual  or  lasting;  it  must 

*  Comment,  in  i  Ep.  ad  Cor.,  T.  ii.;  in  App.p.  122. 
"^  De  obitu.  Theodosii.     Ibid.,  pp.  1 197-8  ;   1207-8. 


i 


i--^ 


t 


I 


!     1! 

i 


I 


34 


PURGATORY. 


1 1 


necessarily  fall  in  order  that  it  may  rise  af^-ain — it  must 
be  dissolved  in  order  that  it  may  rest,  and  that  there  may 
be  some  end  of  sin."  ^ 

In  liis  funeral  oration  upon  his  brother  Satyrus,  he  cries 
out :  "  To*  Thee  now,  ()  omnipotent  God,  I  commend  this 
innocent  soul, — to  Thee  I  offer  my  victim.  Accept  j^ra- 
ciously  and  serenely  the  gift  of  the  brother — the  sacrihcc 
of  the  priest." - 

In  his  discourse  on  the  deceased  Emperor  Valentinian 
the  Younger,  murdered  in  392  :  "  Give  the  holy  mysteries 
to  the  dead.  Let  us,  with  pious  earnestness,  beg  repose 
for  his  soul.  Lift  up  your  hands  with  me,  O  people,  that 
at  least  by  this  duty  we  may  make  some  return  for  his 
benefits."^  Joining  him  with  the  Emperor  Gratian,  his 
brother,  dead  some  years  before,  he  says:  "  Both  blessed, 
if  my  prayers  can  be  of  any  force !  No  duty  shall  pass 
over  you  in  silence.  No  prayer  of  mire  shall  ever  be 
closed  without  remembering  you.  No  liight  shall  pass 
you  over  without  some  vows  of  my  supplications.  You 
shall  have  a  share  in  all  my  sacrifices.  If  I  forget  you 
let  my  own  right  hand  be  forgotten."  ^ 

"  It  was  not  in  vain,"  says  St.  Chrysostom,  **  that  the 
apostles  ordained  a  commemoration  of  the  deceased  in 
the  holy  and  tremendous  mysteries.  They  were  sensible 
of  the  benefit  and  advantage  which  accrues  to  them  from 
this  practice.  For,  when  the  congregation  stands  with 
open  arms  as  well  as  the  priests,  and  the  tremendous 
sacrifice  is  before  them,  how  should  our  prayers  for  them 
not  appease  God  ?  But  this  is  said  of  such  as  have  de- 
parted in  faith."  ^ 

St.  Augustine  again  says :  "  Nor  is  it  to  be  denied 
that  the  souls  of  the  departed  are  relieved  by  the  piety 
of  their  living  friends,  when  the  sacrifice  of  the  Mediator 

*  St.  Ambr.,  cp.  39,  ad  Fauslini,  t.  2,  p.  944,  cd.  Ben. 

2  De  excessu  frateris  satyri,  No.  80,  p.  1135. 

3  St.  Ambr.  de  obitu  Valent,  No.  56,  t.  2,  p.  11S9,  ed.  Bened. 

*  Ibid.,  No.  78,  p.  1 194. 

''  Horn.  3  in  Phil  ,  t.  ii.,  p.  217  cd.  Montfauc. 


I 


DOCTRINAL    <  N'D  PKVOTIONAL. 


m 


is  oflcrcd  lor  them,  or  alms  arc  givC'iin  thcChurcli.  Tlrrt 
these  thinjj^s  arc  ])roritablc  i  >  those  \  ho,  wliih'  tiicy  livcti, 
deserved  that  they  mis^ht  avail  theiii.  Th<  is  a  !  so 
f^ood  as  not  to  require  them,  and  tlicrc  s  anot'  r  so 
wicked  that  alter  death  it  can  receive  ii-  belieti,  from 
them.  When,  therefore,  the  sacrifices  of  the  nltnr  (»r  alms 
arc  offered  for  all  Christians,  for  the  very  i^ood  tliey  arc 
thanksgiving's,  they  are  propitiations  for  those  who  arc 
not  very  bad.  For  the  very  wicked,  they  are  some  kind 
of  comfort  to  the  living." 

In  another  of  his  works  he  says  that  prayer  for  the 
dead  in  the  holy  mysteries  was  observed  by  the  whole 
church.  He  expounds  the  thirty-seventh  Psalm  as  having 
reference  to  Purgatory.  The  words:  "Rebuke  mc  not 
in  thy  fury,  neither  chastise  me  in  thy  wrath,"  he  explains 
as  follows:  "That  you  purify  mc  in  this  life,  and  render 
mc  such  that  I  may  not  stand  in  need  of  tiiat  purging 
fire." 

Arnobius  speaks  of  the  public  liturgies:  "In  which 
peace  and  pardon  arc  begged  of  God  for  kings,  magis- 
trates, friends  and  enemies,  both  the  living  and  those  who 
are  delivered  from  the  body." 

To  these  few  extracts,  which  space  permits,  might  be 
added  innumerable  others  from  St.  Clement  of  Alexan- 
dria, St.  Athanasius,  St.  l^aulinus,  St.  Euscbius,  Lactan- 
tius,  TcrtuUian,  St.  Cccsarius  of  Aries,  wSt.  Bernard,  Ven- 
erable Bede,  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  and  so  on  down  to  our 
own  immediate  time.  Their  testimony  is  most  clear  not 
only  as  regards  the  custom  of  praying  for  the  dead,  but 
the  actual  doctrine  of  Purgatory,  as  it  is  now  understood 
in  the  Church.  They  are,  in  fact,  in  many  cases  most 
explicit  upon  this  point,  obviously  referring  to  a  middle 
state  of  suffering  and  expiation,  and  thus  refuting  by 
anticipation  the  objections  of  those  who  claim  that  the 
primitive  Christians  prayed  indeed  for  the  dead,  but 
knew  nothing  of  Purgatory:  a  contradiction,  it  would 
seem,  as  prayer  for  the  dead,  to  be  available,  supposes  a 
place  or  state  of  probation.     But,  even  where  the   mcn- 


■tm 


:  J 


'I    M 


I 


,11 


36 


PURGATORY. 


tion  made  by  tlic  Fathers  of  prayer  for  the  dead  docs  not 
refer  expressly  to  a  place  of  purgation,  it  is  no  more  a 
proof  that  they  did  not  hold  this  doctrine  than  that  those 
modern  Catholic  authors  disbelieve  in  it,  who  suppose 
this  middle  state  of  suffcrinj^  to  be  admitted  by  their 
readers.  Or  even,  which  rarely  happens,  if  they  be  silent 
altogether  upon  the  subject,  it  no  more  inters  tiieir  igno- 
rance of  such  a  belief  than  the  same  silence  to  be  noted 
in  theological  and  religious  works  of  our  own  day.  It 
proves  no  more  than  that  they  are  at  the  time  engaged  in 
treating  of  some  other  subject.  The  following,  which 
may  serve  as  a  conclusion  to  these  extracts,  is  the  solemn 
decision  of  the  Council  of  Trent  in  regard  to  this  doc- 
trine: "The  Church,  inspired  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  has 
always  taught,  according  to  the  Holy  Scriptures  and 
apostolic  tradition,  that  there  is  a  Purgatory,  and  that  the 
souls  there  detained  receive  comfort  from  the  prayers 
and  good  works  of  tlie  faithful,  particularly  through  the 
sacrihcc  of  the  Mass,  which  is  so  acceptable  to  God." 

In  the  thirteenth  Canon  of  the  sixth  session,  it  decrees 
that,  "  if  any  one  should  say  that  a  repentant  sinner,  after 
having  received  the  grace  of  justification,  the  punishment 
of  eternal  pains  being  remitted,  has  no  temporary  punish- 
ment to  be  suffered  either  in  this  life  or  in  the  next  in  Pur- 
gatory, before  he  can  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  God,  let 
him  be  anathema." 

In  the  third  Canon  of  the  twenty-fourth  session,  it  de- 
fines "  that  the  sacrifice  of  the  Mass  is  propitiatory  both 
for  the  living  and  the  dead  for  sins,  punishments  and 
satisfactions." 


T 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


37 


VERSES  FROM  THE  IMITATION. 


TII«)MAS   A    KKMPIS. 


Trust  not  in  thy  friends  and  ncijj^libors,  and  put  not  ofl 
tliy  soul's  welfare  till  t  he  future ;  for  men  will  forget  thee 
sooner  than  thou  thinkcst. 

It  is  better  to  provide  now  in  time  and  send  some  j^ood 
before  thee  than  to  trust  to  the  assistance  of  others  after 
deatli. 

If  thou  art  not  solicitous  for  thyself  now,  who  will  be 
solicitous  for  thee  hereafter. 

Did'st  thou  also  well  ponder  in  thy  heart  the  future 
pains  of  hell  or  Puri^atory,  methinks  thou  would'st  bear 
willingly  labor  and  sorrow  and  fear  no  kind  of  austerity. 

Who  will  remember  thee  when  thou  art  dead  ?  and  who 
will  pray  for  thee  ? 

Now  thy  labor  is  profitable,  thy  tears  arc  acceptable, 
thy  groans  are  heard,  thy  sorrow  is  satisfying  and  puri- 
fieth  the  soul. 

The  patient  man  hath  a  great  and  wholesome  purgatory. 

Better  is  it  to  purge  away  our  sins,  and  cut  off  our 
vices  now,  than  to  keep  them  for  purgation  hereafter. 

If  thou  shalt  say  thou  arc  not  able  to  suffer  much,  how 
then  wilt  thou  endure  the  fire  of  Purgatory.  (Jf  two 
evils,  one  ought  always  to  choose  the  less. 

When  a  Priest  cclebrateth,  he  honoreth  God,  he  rc- 
joiceth  the  Angels,  he  edifieth  the  Church,  he  helpeth  the 
living,  he  obtaincth  rest  for  the  departed,  and  makcth 
himself  partaker  of  all  good  things. 

I  offer  to  Thee  also  all  the  pious  desires  of  devout  per- 
sons;   the   necessities   of  my   parents,  friends,  brothers, 

sisters,  and  all  those  that  arc  dear  to  me  ; and  all 

who  have  desired  and  besought  me  to  offer  up  prayers 
and  Masses  for  themselves  and  all  theirs,  whether  they 
are  still  living  in  the  flesh  or  are  already  dead  to  this 
world. 


'i     M 


38 


PURGATORY. 


I?   i 


ST.    AUGUSTINE    AND     HIS    MOTHER,    ST.    MONICA. 

[In  the  beautiful  account  given  by  the  great  St.  Augustine  of  the  last 
illness  and  death  of  his  holy  mother,  St.  Monica,  we  find  some  touching 
proofs  of  the  pious  belief  of  mother  and  son  in  the  existence  of  a  middle 
state  for  souls  in  the  after  life.  Tlie  holy  doctor  had  been  relating  that 
memorable  conversation  on  heavenly  things  which  took  place  between  his 
mother  and  himself  on  that  moonlight  night  at  the  window  in  the  inn  at 
Ostia,  immortalized  by  Ary  SchoefTer  in  his  beautiful  picture.] 

To  this  what  answer  I  made  her  I  do  not  well  remem- 
ber. But  scarce  five  days,  or  not  many  more,  had 
passed  after  this  before  she  fell  into  a  fever:  and  one  day, 
being  very  sick,  she  swooned  away,  and  was  for  a  little 
while  insensible.  We  ran  in,  but  she  soon  came  to  her- 
self again,  and  looking  upon  me  and  my  brother  (Navi- 
gius),  that  were  standing  by  her,  said  to  us  like  one 
inquiring:  "Where  have  I  been?"  then,  beholding  us 
struck  with  grief,  she  said :  "  Here  you  shall  bury  your 
mother."  I  held  my  peace  and  refrained  weeping ;  but 
my  brother  said  something  by  vv^hich  he  signified  his 
wish,  as  of  a  thing  more  happy,  that  she  might  not  die 
abroad  but  in  her  own  country  ;  which  she  hearing,  with 
a  concern  in  her  countenance,  and  chcckin"  him  with  her 
eyes  that  he  should  have  such  notions,  then  looking  upon 
me,  said  :  "  Do  you  hear  what  he  says  ?  "  then  to  us  both  : 
"  Lay  this  body  anywhere  ;  be  not  concerned  about  that ; 
only  this  I  beg  of  you,  that  wheresoever  you  be,  you 
make  remembrance  of  me  at  the  Lord's  altar."  And 
when  she  had  expressed  to  us  this,  her  mind,  with  such 
words  as  she  could,  she  said  no  more,  but  lay  struggling 
with  her  disease  that  grew  stronger  upon  her. 

v5-  -2fr  i|t  ■/:  *  •::•  -X- 

And  now  behold  the  body  is  carried  out  to  be  buried, 
and  I  both  go  and  return  without  tears.  Neither  in  those 
prayers,  which  we  poured  forth  to  Thee  when  the  sacri- 
fice of  our  ransom  was  offered  to  Thee  for  her,  the  body 
being  set  down  by  the  grave  before  the  interment  of  it. 


i 


s« 


*s-s«j 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


39 


as  custom  is  there,  neither  in  those  prayers,  I  say,  did  I 
shed  any  tears. 

*  -vv  *  ^v  %  -X-  ^K 

And  now,  my  heart  being  healed  of  that  wound  in 
which  a  carnal  affection  might  have  some  share,  I  pour 
out  to  Thee,  our  God,  in  behalf  of  that  servant  of  Thine, 
a  far  different  sort  of  tears,  flowing  from  a  spirit  frighted 
with  the  consideration  of  the  perils  of  every  soul  that 
dies  in  Adam.  For,  although  she,  being  revived  in 
Christ,  even  before  her  being  set  loose  from  the  flesh  and 
lived  in  such  manner,  as  that  Thy  name  is  much  praised 
in  her  faith  and  manners  ;  yet  I  dare  not  say  that  from 
the  time  Thou  didst  regenerate  her  by  baptism,  no  word 

came  out  of  her  mouth  against  Thy  command 

I,  therefore,  ()  my  Praise  and  my  Life,  the  God  of  my 
heart,  setting  for  a  while  aside  her  good  deeds,  for  which 
with  joy  I  give  Thee  thanks,  entreat  Thee  at  present  for 
the  sins  of  my  mother.  Hear  me,  I  beseech  Thee, 
through  that  Cure  of  our  wounds  that  hung  upon  the 
tree,  and  that,  sitting  now  at  Thy  right  hand,  makcth  in- 
tercession to  Thee  for  us.  I  know  that  she  did  mercifully, 
and  from  her  heart  forgive  to  her  debtors  their  tres- 
passes:  do  Thou  likewise  forgive  her  her  debts,  if  she 
hath  also  contracted  some  in  those  many  years  she  lived 
after  the  saving  water.  .  .  .  And  I  believe  Thou  hast 
already  done  what  I  ask,  but  these  free  offerings  of  my 
mouth  approve,  O  Lord. 

For  she,  when  the  day  of  her  dissolution  was  at  hand, 
had  no  thought  for  the  sumptuous  covering  of  her  body, 
or  the  embalming  of  it,  nor  had  she  any  desire  of  a  line 
monument,  nor  was  S(jlicitous  about  her  sepulchre  in  her 
own  country  :  none  of  these  things  did  she  recommend 
to  us ;  but  only  desired  that  wc  should  make  a  remem- 
brance of  her  at  Thy  altar,  at  which  she  had  constantly 
attended  without  one  day's  intermission,  from  whence 
she  knew  was  dispensed  that  Holy  Victim  by  which  was 
cancelled  that  handwriting  that  was  against  us  (Coloss. 
11.),  by  which   that   enemy  was    triumphed   over   who 


4h. 


f 


-iHS»»-,,irH'MM»IBi 


40 


rURGATORY. 


reckoncth  up  our  sins  and  secketh  what  he  may  lay  to 
our  charge,  but  findeth  nothing  in  Him  through  whom 
we  conquer.  Who  shall  refund  to  Him  that  innocent 
blood  He  shed  for  us?  Who  shall  repay  Him  the  price 
with  which  He  bought  us,  that  so  lie  may  take  us  away 
from  Him  ?  To  the  sacrament  of  which  price  of  our 
redemption  Thy  handmaid  bound  fast  her  soul  by  the 
bond  of  faith.     .     .     . 

Let  her,  therefore,  rest  in  peace,  together  with  her 
husband,  before  whom  and  after  whom  she  was  known  to 
no  man  ;  whom  she  dutifully  served,  bringing  forth  fruit 
to  Thee,  in  much  patience,  that  she  might  also  gain  him 
to  Thee.  And  do  Thou  inspire,  O  Lord,  my  God,  do 
Thou  inspire  Thy  servants,  my  brethren,  Thy  children, 
my  masters,  whom  I  serve  with  my  voice,  and  my  heart, 
and  my  writings,  that  as  many  as  shall  read  this  shall 
remember,  at  Thy  altar.  Thy  handmaid  Monica  with 
Patricius,  formerly  her  husband.  Let  them  remember, 
with  a  pious  affection,  these  who  were  my  parents  in  this 
transitory  life,  my  brethren  under  Thee,  our  Father,  in 
our  Catholic  Mother,  and  my  fellow-citizens  in  the 
eternal  Jerusalem,  for  which  the  pilgrimage  of  Thy 
people  here  below  continually  sigheth  from  their  setting 
out  till  their  return.  That  so  what  my  mother  made  her 
last  request  to  me  may  be  more  plentifully  performed  for 
her  by  the  prayers  of  many,  procured  by  these,  my  con- 
fessions, and  my  prayers.' 

'  Conf.  B.  IX.  Chs.  XL— XIII. 


U'StMt^im-J^^al»i^s:i^:iaat&tliMd-^-s^ 


i>i4il6ii^#'^'^;T^'^?y*"; 


S^ 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


41 


I 


ST.   GERTRUDE    AND    THE    HOLY   SOULS. 

[In  the  "  Life  and  Revelations  of  St.  Gertrude"  we  find  many  instances 
of  the  efficacy  of  prayers  for  the  dead  and  how  plcasini*-  to  (lod  is  devotion 
to  the  souls  in  Purgatory.     From  these  we  select  the  following  :J 

Our  Blessed  Lord  once  said  to  the  Saint :  "  If  a  soul  is 
delivered  b}^  prayer  from  Purgatory  I  accept  it  as  if  I  had 
myself  been  delivered  from  captivity,  and  I  will  assuredly 
reward  it  according  to  the  abundance  of  my  merc3^" 
The  religious  also  behv^id  many  souls  meeting  before  her 
to  testify  their  gratitude  for  their  deliverance  from  Pur- 
gatory, through  the  prayers  which  had  been  offered  for 
her,  and  which  she  had  not  needed. 

*  '/:  -.i  -s-  -A  -;<-  -X- 

As  St.  Gertrude  prayed  fervently  before  matins  on 
the  blessed  night  of  the  Resurrection,  the  Lord  Jesus 
appeared  to  her  full  of  majesty  and  glory.  Then  she  cast 
herself  at  His  feet,  to  adore  Him  devoutly  and  humbly, 
saying:  "O  gh^rious  Spouse,  joy  of  the  angels,  Thou 
who  hast  shown  me  the  favor  of  choosing  me  to  be  Thy 
spouse,  who  am  the  least  of  Thy  creatures  !  I  ardently 
desire  Thy  glory,  and  my  only  friends  are  those  who  love 
Thee ;  therefore  I  beseech  Thee  to  pardon  the  souls  of 
Thy  special  friends '  by  the  virtue  of  Thy  most  glorious 
Resurrection.  And  to  obtain  this  grace  from  Thy  good- 
ness, I  offer  Thee,  in  union  with  Thy  Passion,  all  the  suf- 
ferings which  my  continual  infirmities  have  caused  me." 
Then  Our  Lord,  having  favored  her  with  many  caresses, 
showed  her  a  great  multitude  of  souls  who  were  freed 
from  their  pains,  saying :  "  Behold,  I  Have  given  them  to 
you  as  a  recompense  for  your  rare  affection  ;  and  through 
all  eternity  they  will  acknowledge  that  they  have  been 
delivered  by  your  prayers,  and  you  will  be  honored  and 
glorified  for  it."  She  replied:  *' How  many  are  they  ?  " 
He  answered:  "  This  knowledi^fe  belono^s  to  God  alone." 


I 


If 


*  "  This  seems  to  refer,"  says  th.-  author  of  the  Saint's  life,  "  to  the  souls 
in  Purgatory," 


42 


PURGATORY. 


As  she  feared  that  these  souls,  though  freed  from  their 
pains,  were  not  yet  admitted  to  glory,  she  offered  to  en- 
dure whatever  God  might  please,  either  in  body  or  soul, 
to  obtain  their  entrance  into  that  beatitude;  and  Our 
Lord,  won  by  her  fervor,  granted  her  request  immediately. 
wSornc  time  after,  as  the  wSaint  suffered  most  acute  pain 
in  her  side,  she  made  an  inclination  before  a  crucifix  ; 
and  ^^ur  Lorfl  freed  her  from  the  pain,  and  granted  the 
merit  of  it  to  these  souls,  recommending  them  to  make 
her  a  return  by  their  prayers. 

******* 

On  Wednesday,  at  the  elevation  of  the  Host,  she  be- 
sought Our  Lord  for  the  souls  of  the  faithful  in  Purgatory, 
that  He  would  free  them  from  their  pains  by  virtue  of  His 
admirable  Ascension ;  and  she  beheld  Our  Lord  descend- 
ing into  Purgatory  with  a  golden  rod  in  His  hand,  which 
had  as  many  hooks  as  there  had  been  prayers  for  their 
souls ;  by  these  He  appeared  to  draw  them  into  a  place 
of  repose.  She  understood  by  this,  that  whenever  any 
one  prays  generally,  from  a  motive  of  charity,  for  the 
souls  in  Purgatory,  the  greater  part  of  those  who,  during 
their  lives,  have  exercised  themselves  in  works  of  charity, 
arc  released. 

On  another  occasion,  as  she  remarked  that  she  had 
offered  all  her  merits  for  the  dead,  she  said  to  Our  Lord : 
**  I  hope,  O  Lord,  that  Thou  wilt  frequently  cast  the  eyes 
of  Thy  mercy  on  my  indigence."  Ho  replied  :  *'  What 
can  I  do  more  for  one  who  has  thus  deprived  herself  of 
all  things  through  charity,  than  to  cover  her  immediately 
with  charity  ?  "  She  answered  :  "  Whatever  Thou  mayest 
do,  I  shall  always  appear  before  Thee  destitute  of  all 
merit,  for  I  have  renounced  all  I  have  gained  or  may 
gain."  He  replied :  **  Do  you  not  know  that  a  mother 
would  allow  a  child  who  was  well  clothed  to  sit  at  her 
feet,  but  she  would  take  one  who  was  barely  clad  into  her 
arms,  and  cover  her  with  her  own  garment  ?  "  He  added : 
*'And  now,  what  advantages  have  you,  who  are  seated 


I 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


43 


on  the  shore  of  an  ocean,  over  those  wlio  sit  by  a  little 
rivulet?"  That  is  to  say,  those  who  keep  their  good 
works  for  themselves,  have  the  rivulet ;  but  those  who 
renounce  them  in  love  and  humility,  possess  God,  who  is 
an  inexhaustible  ocean  of  beatitude. 

•::•  ■-/:  ■!•^  -x-  *  *  * 

On  one  occasion,  while  Mass  was  being  celebrated  for 
a  poor  woman  who  had  died  lately,  St.  Gertrude  recited 
five  Pater  Nostcrs,  in  honor  of  Our  Lord's  five  wounds, 
for  the  repose  of  her  soul ;  and,  moved  by  divine  inspi- 
ration, she  offered  all  her  good  works  for  the  increase  ol 
the  beatitude  of  this  person.  When  she  had  made  this 
offering,  she  immediately  beheld  the  soul  in  heaven,  in 
the  place  destined  for  her;  and  the  throne  prepared  for 
her  was  elevated  as  far  above  the  place  where  she  liad 
been,  as  the  highest  throne  of  the  seraphim  is  above  that 
of  the  lowest  angel.  The  Saint  then  asked  Our  Lord 
how  this  sold  had  been  worthy  to  obtain  such  advantage 
from  her  prayers,  and  He  replied : 

"  She  has  merited  this  grace  in  three  ways  :  first,  be- 
cause she  always  had  a  sincere  will  and  perfect  desire  of 
serving  Me  in  religion,  if  it  had  been  possible;  secondl}', 
because  she  especially  loved  all  religious  and  all  good 
people  ;  thirdly,  because  she  was  always  ready  to  lionor 
Me  by  performing  any  service  she  could  for  them."  lie 
added  :  "  You  may  judge,  by  the  sublime  rank  to  which 
she  is  elevated,  how  agreeable  these  practices  arc  to  Me." 

A  certain  religious  died  who  had  always  been  accus- 
tomed to  pray  very  fervently  for  the  souls  of  the  faithful 
departed  ;  but  she  had  failed  in  the  perfection  of  obe- 
dience, preferring  her  own  will  to  that  of  her  superior  in 
her  fasts  and  vigils.  After  her  decease  she  appeared 
adorned  with  rich  ornaments,  but  so  weighed  down  by  a 
heavy  burden,  which  she  was  obliged  to  carry,  that  she 
could  not  approach  to  God,  though  many  persons  were 
endeavoring  to  lead  her  to  Him. 

As  Gertrude  marvelled  at  this  vision,  she  was  taught 
that  the  persons  who  endeavored  to  conduct  the  soul  to 


\    7i| 


I 

f 


44 


PURGATORY. 


God  were  those  whom  she  had  released  by  her  prayers  ; 
but  this  heavy  burden  indicated  the  faults  she  had  com- 
mitted against  obedience.  Then  Our  Lord  said  :  "  Behold 
how  those  grateful  souls  endeavor  to  free  her  from  the 
requirements  of  My  justice,  and  show  these  ornaments  ; 
nevertheless,  she  must  suffer  for  her  faults  of  disobedience 
and  vSelf-will."     ... 

Then  the  Saint  beheld  her  ornament,  which  appeared 
like  a  vessel  of  boiling  water  containing  a  hard  stone, 
which  must  be  completely  dissolved  therein  before  she 
could  obtain  relief  from  this  torment ;  but  in  these  suffer- 
ings she  was  much  consoled  and  assisted  by  those  souls, 
and  by  the  prayers  of  the  faithful.  After  this  Our  Lord 
showed  St.  Gertrude  the  path  by  which  the  souls  ascend 
to  heaAcn.  It  resembled  a  straight  plank,  a  little  in- 
clined ;  so  that  those  who  ascended  did  so  with  difficulty. 
They  were  assisted  and  supported  by  hands  on  either 
side,  which  indicated  the  prayers  offered  for  them. 

:i!  V-  Vc  %i  %  ^c  ^ 

One  day  St.  Gertrude  asked  Our  Lord  how  many  souls 
were  delivered  from  Purgatory  by  her  prayers  and  those 
of  her  sisters.  "  The  number,"  replied  Our  Lord,  "  is  pro- 
portioned to  the  zeal  and  fervor  of  those  who  pray  for 
them."  He  added  :  "  My  love  urges  me  to  release  a  great 
number  of  souls  for  the  prayers  of  each  religious,  and  at 
each  verse  of  the  psalms  which  they  recite,  I  release  many." 

vV  *  *  %  %  *  ->!: 

When  Mass  was  offered  for  the  deceased  Brother  Her- 
mann, his  soul  appeared  to  St.  Gertrude  all  radiant  with 
light,  and  transported  with  joy.  Then  Gertrude  said  to 
Our  Lord  :  **  Is  this  soul  now  entirely  freed  from  its  suf- 
ferings ? "  Our  Lord  answered :  "  He  is  already  free 
from  much  suffering,  and  no  human  being  can  form  an 
idea  of  his  glory  ;  but  he  is  not  yet  so  perfectly  purified 
as  to  be  worthy  to  enjoy  My  presence,  though  he  is  ap- 
proaching nearer  and  nearer  to  this  purity  by  the  prayers 
which  are  offered  for  him,  and  is  more  and  more  consoled 
and  relieved." 


I' 

i 

i 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


45 


ST.    JOSEPH'S    INTERCESSION    FOR    THE    FAITHFUL 

DEPARTED. 

{From  "  Lc  Propagatetir  dc  la  Devotion  a  Saint  Joseph'') 

St.  Francis  de  Sales  says:  **  Wc  do  not  often  enough 
remember  our  dead,  our  faithful  departed."  Thus  the 
Church,  Uke  a  good  »"ncther,  recalls  to  us  the  thought  of 
the  dead  when  we  have  forgotten  them,  and  therefore  she 
consecrates  the  m(jnth  of  November  to  the  memory  of 
the  dead.  This  pious  and  salutary  practice  of  praying 
for  an  entire  month  for  the  dead  takes  its  rise  from  the 
earliest  ages  of  the  Church.  The  custom  of  mourning 
tJiirty  days  for  the  dead  existed  amongst  the  Jews.  The 
practice  of  saying  thirty  Masses  on  thirty  consecutive 
days  was  established  by  St.  Gregory,  and  Innocent  XL 
enriched  it  with  indulgences.  "  God  has  made  known  to 
me,"  says  the  venerable  sister  Marie  Denise  dc  Martignat, 
"  that  a  devotion  to  the  death  of  St.  Joseph  obtains  many 
graces  for  those  who  are  agonizing,  and  that,  as  St.  Jo- 
seph did  not  at  once  pass  into  heaven — because  Jesus 
Christ  had  not  opened  its  gates — but  descended  into 
Limbo,  it  is  a  most  useful  devotion  for  the  agonizing,  and 
for  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  to  offer  to  God  the  resigna- 
tion of  St.  Joseph  when  he  was  dying  and  about  to  leave 
Jesus  and  Mary  in  this  world,  and  to  honor  the  holy  pa- 
tience of  this  great  Saint  waiting  calmly  in  Limbo  until 
Easter-day,  when  Jesus  Christ,  risen  and  glorious,  released 
him."  And  if  St.  Joseph  consoles  the  souls  in  Purgatory, 
none  will  be  so  dear  to  him  as  those  who  were  devout  to 
him  in  life,  and  zealous  in  spreading  a  devotion  to  him. 


ril 


1  ^1 

I 


>  * 


'i 


^ 


'f'^M^^^> 


46 


PURGATORY. 


I 


I 


ST.  FRANCIS  DE   SALES  ON  PURGATORY.' 

The  opinion  of  St.  Francis  dc  Sales  was  that  from  the 
thought  of  Purj^atory  we  should  draw  more  consolation 
than  pain.  The  greater  number  of  those,  he  said,  who 
fear  I'urgatory  so  mucli,  do  so  in  consideration  of  their 
own  interests  and  of  the  love  they  bear  themselves  ratlier 
than  the  interests  of  God  ;  and  this  happens  because  those 
who  treat  of  this  place  from  the  pulpit  usually  speak  of 
its  pains  and  are  silent  in  regard  to  the  happiness  and 
peace  which  are  found  in  it 

When  any  of  his  friends  or  acquaintances  died,  he  never 
grew  weary  of  speaking  fondly  of  them  and  recommend- 
ing them  to  the  prayers  of  others. 

His  usual  expression  was :  "  We  do  not  sufficiently  re- 
member our  dead,  our  faithful  departed  ;"  and  the  proof 
of  it  is  that  we  do  not  speak  enough  of  them.  We  turn 
away  from  that  discourse  as  from  a  sad  subject.  We 
leave  the  dead  to  bury  their  dead.  Their  memory  per- 
ishes from  us  with  the  sound  of  their  funeral-bell.  We 
forget  that  the  friendship  which  ends  even  with  death,  is 
never  true.  Holy  Scripture  assuring  us  that  true  love  is 
stronsfer  than  death. 

He  was  accustomed  to  say  that  in  this  single  w(^rk  of 
mercy  the  thirteen  others  are  assembled. 

Is  it  not,  he  said,  in  some  manner,  to  visit  the  sick,  to 
obtain  by  our  prayers  the  relief  of  the  poor  suffering  souls 
in  Purgatory  ? 

Is  it  not  to  give  drink  to  those  who  thirst  after  the  vis- 
ion of  God,  and  who  are  enveloped  in  burning  flames,  to 
share  with  them  the  dew  of  our  prayers? 

Is  it  not  to  feed  the  hungry,  to  aid  in  their  deliverance 
b}^  the  means  which  faith  suggests  ? 

'  Consoling  Thoughts  of  St.  Francis  de  Sales.  Arranged  by  Rev.  Father 
Hiiguet.     Pp.  336-7- 


"K' 


a  i 

th( 
th( 
G(j 

to 

coi 
wa 
cnc 
grc 
cor 
to 


'Ml 


1i 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


47 


Is  it  not  truly  to  ransom  prisoners? 

Is  it  not  truly  to  clothe  the  naked,  to  pr.  )cure  for  them 
a  g-arment  of  light,  a  raiment  of  glory  ? 

Is  it  not  an  admirable  degree  of  hospitality,  to  procure 
their  admission  into  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  make 
them  fellow-citizens  with  the  Saints  and  domestics  of 
God  ? 

Is  it  not  a  greater  service  to  place  souls  in  heaven  than 
to  bury  bodies  in  the  earth  ? 

As  to  spirituals,  is  it  not  a  work  whose  merit  may  be 
compared  to  that  of  counselling  the  weak,  correcting  the 
wayward,  instructing  the  igncjrant,  forgiving  offenses, 
enduring  injuries?  And  what  consolation,  however 
great,  that  can  be  given  to  the  afflicted  of  this  world,  is 
comparable  with  that  which  is  brought  by  our  prayers 
to  those  poor  souls  which  have  such  bitter  need  of  them  ? 


^% 


-i 


■^f 


m 


I 
I 


m 


48 


PURGATORY. 


CARDINAL  GIBBONS  ON  PURGATORY. 


r^ 


The  Catholic  Church  teaches  that,  besides  a  place  of 
eternal  torments  lor  the  wicked  and  of  cverlastini^  rest 
for  the  righteous,  there  exists  in  the  next  life  a  middle 
state  of  temporary  punishment,  allotted  for  those  who 
have  died  in  venial  sin,  or  who  have  not  satisfied  the  jus- 
tice of  God  for  sins  already  forgiven.  She  also  teaches 
us  that,  although  the  souls  consigned  to  this  intermediate 
state,  commonly  called  Purgatory,  cannot  help  them- 
selves, they  may  be  aided  by  the  suffrages  of  the  faithful 
on  earth.  The  existence  of  Purgatory  naturally  implies 
the  correlative  df)gma — the  utility  of  praying  for  the 
dead ;  for  the  souls  consigned  to  this  middle  state  have 
not  reached  the  term  of  their  journey.  They  are  still 
exiles  from  heaven,  and  are  fit  subjects  for  divine 
clemency. 

Is  it  not  strange  that  this  cherished  doctrine  should  be 
called  in  question  by  the  levelling  innovators  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  when  we  consider  that  it  is  clearly  taught 
in  the  Old  Testament ;  that  it  is,  at  least,  insinuated  in  the 
New  Testament ;  that  it  is  unanimously  proclaimed  by 
the  Fathers  of  the  Church  ;  that  it  is  embodied  in  all  the 
ancient  liturgies  of  the  Oriental  and  Western  Church;  and 
that  it  is  alike  consonant  with  our  reason  and  eminently 
consoling  to  the  human  heart  ? 

•!t  v.-  i^  -vv  *  •»  -x- 

You  now  perceive  that  this  devotion  is  not  an  inven- 
tion of  modern  times,  but  a  doctrine  universally  enforced 
in  the  best  and  purest  ages  of  the  Church. 

You  see  that  praying  for  the  dead  was  not  a  devotion 
cauciously  recommended  by  some  obscure  or  visionary 
writer,  but  an  act  of  religion  preached  and  inculcated 
by  all  the  great  Doctors  and  Fathers  of  the  Church,  who 
are  the  recognized  expounders  of  the  Christian  religion. 

You  see  them,  too,  inculcating  this  doctrine  not  as  a 


ra 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAI-. 


49 


cold  and  abstract  i)riiici])lc,  but  as  an  inij)crativc  act  of 
daily  piety,  and  embodying  it  in  their  ordinary  exercises 
of  devotion. 

They  j)rayed  for  tlic  dead  in  tlieir  mornini^  and  evening 
devotions.  They  prayed  for  them  in  their  (hiily  office, 
and  in  tlic  sacrifice  of  the  Mass.  They  asked  the  prayers 
of  the  congregation  for  the  souls  of  the  deceased,  in  the 
I)ublic  services  of  Sunda)-.  And  on  the  nionumcntr.  which 
were  erected  to  the  dead,  some  of  which  are  preserved 
even  to  this  day,  ei)itaphs  were  inscribed,  earnestlv  in- 
voking for  their  souls  tlie  i)raycrs  of  the  living.  ITov/ 
gratifying  it  is  to  our  Catholic  hearts,  that  a  devotion  so 
soothing  to  afllicted  spirits  is,  at  the  same  time,  so  hrmly 
grounded  on  the  tradition  of  ages. 

That  the  practice  of  praying  for  the  dead  has  descended 
from  apostolic  times  is  also  evident  from  the  Liinri^ics  of 
the  Church.  A  Liturgy  is  the  established  form  of  public 
worship,  containing  the  authorized  prayers  of  the  Church. 
1  he  Missal,  or  Mass-book,  for  instance,  which  you  see 
on  our  altars,  contains  a  portion  of  the  Liturgy  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  The  principal  Liturgies  are:  The 
Liturgy  of  St.  James  the  Apostle,  who  founded  the 
Church  of  Jerusalem  ;  the  Liturgy  of  St.  Mark  the  Evan- 
gelist, founder  of  the  Church  of  Alexandria,  and  the 
Liturgy  of  .St.  Peter,  who  established  the  Church  in 
Rome.  These  Liturgies  are  called  after  the  Apostles 
who  compiled  them.  There  are,  besides,  the  Liturgies 
of  St.  Chrysostom  and  St.  Basil,  which  arc  chiefly  based 
on  that  of  St.  James. 

Now,  all  these  Liturgies,  without  an  exception,  have 
prayers  for  the  dead,  and  their  provideF|tial  preservation 
serves  as  another  triumphant  vindication  of  the  venerable 
antiquity  of  this  Catholic  doctrine. 

The  Eastern  and  the  Western  churches  were  happily 
united  until  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  when  the  here- 
siarchs  Arius,  Nestorius  and  Eutyches  withdrew  millions 
of  souls  from  the  centre  of  unity.  The  followers  of  these 
sects  were  called,  after  their  founders,  Arians,  Nestorians, 


*   '1 


-  >'ii 


1  Ui 


111 


I 


50 


rURGATORY. 


and  Eiiiycliians,  and  from  that  da}'  to  tlic  present  tlic  two 
latter  bodies  liave  Ibrtned  distiiiet  coiiunuiiions,  being  sepa- 
rated from  the  Catholie  Chureh  in  the  East,  just  as  the 
Protestant  ehurehes  are  separated  from  her  in  the  West. 

The  Cireek  Sehismatic  Chureh,  of  wliieh  tlie  present 
Russo-Greek  Chureh  is  tlie  offspring,  severed  her  eon- 
neetion  with  the  See  of  Rome  in  tlie  ninth  eentury. 

IJut  in  leaving  the  Catiiolic  Chureh,  these  luistern 
sects  retained  the  old  Liturgies,  whieli  they  use  to  this 
day.     .     .     . 

During  my  sojourn  in  Rome,  at  the  Eeumenical  Coun- 
eil,  I  devoted  a  great  deal  of  my  leisure  time  to  the  ex- 
amination of  the  various  Liturgies  of  the  Schismatie 
ehurehes  of  the  East.  I  found  in  all  oi  them  formulas  of 
prayers  for  the  dead  almost  identical  with  that  of  the 
Roman  Missal :  '^  Remember,  O  Lord,  Thy  servants  who 
are  gone  before  us  with  the  sign  of  faith,  and  sleep  in 
peace.  To  these,  O  Lord,  and  to  all  who  rest  in  Christ, 
grant,  we  beseech  Thee,  a  place  of  refreshment,  light,  and 
peace,  through  the  same  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord !  " 

Not  content  with  studying  their  books,  I  called  upon 
the  Oriental  Patriarchs  and  Bishops  in  communion  with 
the  See  of  Rome,  who  belong  to  the  Armenian,  the  Chal- 
dean, the  Coptic,  the  Maronite,  and  Syriac  rites.  They 
all  assured  mc  that  the  Schismatic  Christians  of  the  East 
among  whom  they  live  have,  without  exception,  prayers 
and  sacrifices  for  the  dead. 

Now,  I  ask,  when  could  those  Eastern  sects  have  com- 
menced to  adopt  the  Catholic  practice  of  praying  for  the 
dead  ?  They  could  not  have  received  it  from  us  since 
the  ninth  century,  because  the  Greek  Church  separated 
from  us  then,  and  has  had  no  communion  with  us  since 
that  time,  except  at  intervals,  up  to  the  twelfth  century. 
Nor  could  they  have  adopted  the  practice  since  the  fourth 
or  hfth  century,  inasmuch  as  the  Arians,  Nestorians,  and 
Eutychians  have  had  no  religious  communication  with 
us  since  that  period.  Therefore,  in  common  with  us, 
tliey  received  this  doctrine  from  the  Apostles.     .     .    , 


ang 


1 


DOCTUINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL, 


51 


{ 

c 

I) 

in 

i^t, 

lid 

lon 
lil.h 

ul- 

cy 

ast 

crs 

pm- 

thc 
incc 
Litcd 

incc 
jury. 

and 
IwitTfi 
11  us, 


I  have  already  sjiokcn  of  the  dcvolion  of  the  ancient 
Jewish  Cluirch  to  the  souls  of  tiie  departed.  But  perhai)S 
you  arc  not  aware  that  the  Jews  retain  to  tliis  dav,  in 
their  Litun^y,  the  pious  practice  of  praying  for  the  dead. 
Vet  such  in  reality  is  the  case. 

Amid  all  their  wandeiings  and  vicissitudes  of  life, 
though  disnienibcred  and  dispersed,  like  sheep  without 
a  shepherd,  over  the  surface  of  the  globe,  the  children  of 
Israel  have  never  forgotten  or  neglected  the  sacred  duty 
of  praying  for  their  deceased  brethren. 

Unwilling  to  make  this  assertion  without  the  strongest 
evidence,  I  procured  from  a  Jewish  convert  an  auth(jri/ed 
Prayer-book  of  the  Hebrew  Church,  from  which  1  extract 
the  following  formula  of  prayers  which  are  prescribed 
for  funerals  :  "  Departed  brother  !  mayest  thou  fmd  o[)en 
the  gates  of  heaven,  and  see  the  city  of  peace  and  the 
dwellings  of  safety,  and  meet  the  ministering  angels  hast- 
ening joyfully  towards  thee!  And  may  the  High  Priest 
stand  to  receive  thee,  and  go  thou  to  the  end,  rest  in 
peace,  and  rise  again  i;Uo  life !  May  the  repose  estab- 
lished in  the  celestial  abode  ...  be  the  lot,  dwelling, 
and  the  resting  place  of  the  soul  of  our  deceased  brother 
(whom  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  may  guide  into  Paradise), 
who  departed  from  this  worki,  according  to  the  will  of 
God,  the  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth.  May  the  Supreme 
King  of  Kings,  through  His  infinite  mercy,  hide  him 
under  the  shadow  of  His  wings.  May  He  raise  him  at 
the  end  of  his  days,  and  cause  him  to  drink  of  the  stream 
of  His  delights!" 

I  am  happy  to  say  that  the  more  advanced  and  enlight- 
ened members  of  the  Episcopalian  Church  are  steadily 
returning  to  the  faith  of  their  forefathers,  regarding  pray- 
ers for  the  dead.  An  acquaintance  of  mine,  once  a  dis- 
tinguished clergyman  of  the  Episcopal  communion,  but 
now  a  convert,  informed  me  that  hundreds  of  Prot- 
estant clergymen  in  this  country,  and  particularly  in 
England,  have  a  firm  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  prayers  for 
the  dead,  but  for  well-known  reasons  they  are  reserved 


1| 


'    1 


'% 


y 


I  III 


52 


PURGATORY. 


in  the  expression  of  their  faith.  He  easily  convinced  me 
of  the  truth  of  his  assertion,  particularly  as  far  as  the 
Church  of  England  is  concerned,  by  sending  me  six  dif- 
ferent works  published  in  London,  all  bearing  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Purgatory.  These  books  are  printed  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  ;  they  all 
C(3ntain  prayers  for  the  dead,  and  prove,  from  Catholic 
grounds,  the  existence  of  a  middle  state  after  death,  and 
the  duty  of  praying  for  our  deceased  brethren.' 

To  sum  up  :  we  see  the  practice  of  praying  for  the  dead 
enforced  in  the  ancient  Hebrew  Church,  and  in  the  Jew- 
ish synagogue  of  to-day.  We  see  it  proclaimed  age  after 
age  by  all  the  Fathers  of  Christendom.  We  see  it  incor- 
porated in  every  one  of  the  ancient  Liturgies  of  the  East 
and  of  the  West.  We  see  it  zealously  taught  by  the 
Russian  Church  of  to-day,  and  by  that  immense  family  of 
schismatic  Christians  scattered  over  the  East.  We  be- 
hold it,  in  fine,  a  cherished  devotion  of  two  hundred  mil- 
lions of  Catholics,  as  well  as  of  a  respectable  portio.  of 
the  Episcopal  Church. 

Would  it  not,  my  friend,  be  the  height  of  rashness  and 
presumption  in  you  to  prefer  your  private  opinion  to  this 
immense  weight  of  learning,  sanctit}^  and  authority? 
Would  it  not  be  impiety  in  you  to  stand  aside  with  sealed 
lips,  while  the  Christian  world  is  sending  up  an  imceas- 
ing  Dc  profundis  for  departed  brethren  ?  Would  it  not 
be  cold  and  heartless  in  you  not  to  pray  for  your  deceased 
friends,  on  account  of  prejudices  which  have  no  grounds 
in  Scripture,  tradition,  or  reason  itself? 

*  *  v4-  *  *  -:f  * 

Oh !  far  from  us  a  religion  which  would  decree  an 
eternal  divorce  between  the  living  and  the  dead.  How 
consoling  is  it  to  the  Catholic,  to  think  that,  in  praying 
thus  for  his  departed  friend,  his  prayers  are  not  in  viola- 
tion of,  but  in  accordance  with,  the  voice  of  the  Church ; 
and  that  as,  like  Augustine,  he  watches  at  the  pillow  of  a 

'  Sec  "  Path  of  Holiness,"  Rivington's,  London  ;  "  Treasury  of  Devo- 
tion," Ibid  ;  "  Cuic'chism  of  Theology,"  Maslcu,  London. 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


53 


dying  mother,  so,  like  Augustine,  lie  can  continue  the 
same  office  of  piety  for  lier  soul  after  she  is  dead,  by 
praying  for  her.  How  cheering  the  reflection  that  the 
golden  link  of  prayer  unites  you  still  to  those  who  "  fall 
asleep  in  the  Lord,"  and  that  you  can  still  speak  to  them 
and  pray  for  them !     .     .     . 

Oh !  it  is  this  thought  that  robs  death  of  its  sting  and 
makes  the  separation  of  friends  endurable.  And  if  your 
departed  friend  needs  not  your  prayers,  they  are  not  lost, 
but,  like  the  rain  absorbed  by  the  sun,  and  descending 
again  in  fruitful  showers  on  our  fields,  they  will  be  gath- 
ered by  the  Sun  of  Justice,  and  they  will  come  down  in 
refreshing  showers  of  grace  upon  your  head.  "  Cast  thy 
bread  upon  the  running  waters  ;  tor,  after  a  long  time, 
thou  shalt  find  it  again."  ^ 

'  Faith  of  our  Fathers,  chap.  xvi. 


^ 


54 


PURGATORY. 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    PURGATORY. 


|i       ! 


ARCliniSnOl'    HUGHES.  ' 

The  Catholic  Church  docs  not  believe  that  God  cre- 
ated any  to  be  damned  absolutely,  notwithstanding  their 
co-operation  with  the  means  of  salvation  which  were  se- 
cured to  them  by  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ ;  nor  any  to 
be  saved  absolutely,  unless  they  co-operate  with  those 
means.  Hence  she  has  ever  taught  the  doctrine  which  is 
inculcated  in  Scripture,  that  heaven  may  be  obtained  by 
all  who  shall  apply  the  means  which  the  Saviour  of  the 
World  has  left  in  His  Church  for  that  end :  in  a  word, 
that  every  man  shall  be  judged  according  to  his  works. 
This  doctrine  is  consonant  with  the  justice  which  must 
belong  to  the  Deity.  She  knows  God  is  too  pure  to  ad- 
mit anything  defiled  into  His  heavenly  abode  (Apoc.  xxi. 
27) ;  and  yet  too  just  and  merciful  to  punish  a  slight 
transgression  with  the  same  severity  as  is  due  to  an  enor- 
mous crime.  Now,  suppose  two  men  to  sin  against  God 
at  the  same  time,  the  one  by  the  deliberate  murder  of  his 
father — for  the  case  is  possible — and  the  other,  by  a  slight, 
almost  inadvertent,  falsehood ;  and  suppose,  further,  that 
they  are  both  to  appear  before  God  the  next  moment  to 
answer  for  the  deeds  done  in  the  flesh,  I  ask  whether  it 
is  consistent  with  the  idea  we  have  of  divine  justice  to 
think  that  both  will  be  condemned  to  the  same  everlast- 
ing punishment?  If  it  be,  then  there  is  no  more  moral 
turpitude  in  parricide  than  in  telling  a  trivial  falsehood, 
which  injures  no  one,  but  still  is  offensive  and  dis]:)leasing 
to  God.  But  if  it  be  not  consistent  with  divine  justice, 
then  you  must  admit  the  distinction  of  guilt,  and  conse- 
quently of  punishm.ent.  Now,  that  God  exacts  a  tempo- 
rary punishment  for  sin,  after  the  guilt  and  eternal  pun- 
ishment are  remitted,  appears  from  the  testimony  of  His 
Sacred  Word.     St.  Paul  teaches  that  the   death   of  the 

'  Answer  to  nine  objections  made. 


yoi 

real 

sam 

feel 

Sun 

ply 

suffi 

equa, 

our 

thori 

that 

8"i"ou 

you 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


55 


t 

[t 
lo 


IS 

lie 


body    is  a  punishment  which  the  sin  of  our  first  parent 
entailed  on  his  progeny  ;  and  yet  many  who  have  been 
regenerated  by  baptism  from  that  original  guilt,  neverthe- 
less die  before  they  have  committed  any  actual  sin  what- 
ever.    The  children  of  Israel  had  to  leave  their  bones  in 
the   wilderness,  after  the  forty   years'  sojournment,  as  a 
punishment,  inflicted  by  the  Almighty  Himself,  for  sins 
which  He   had  expressly  forgiven  them.     Num.  xiv.  20, 
22.     David  was  forgiven  his  sin — and  yet  he  was  pun- 
ished for  it,  by  the  death  of  his  child,  whom  he  loved 
most  tenderly.      He  sinned  by  numbering   his    people ; 
and  although  it  was  forgiven  him,  he  had  still  to  choose 
his   punishment —either   war,    famine,   or   pestilence.     It 
such  be  the  dispensation  of  God  to  His  creatures  in  this 
world,  why  may  it  not  be  rlso  after  death  ?    Will  you  say 
it  is  because  the  body  is  the  medium  of  suffering  in  this 
life?     This  is  not  exactly  true — the  body,  indeed,  is  the 
medium,  in  many  instances,  through  which  the  soul  is 
made  to  suffer.     But  God  inflicted  no  corporal  chastise- 
ment on   David  by  taking  his  child — it  was  the    king's 
soul  that  was  touched,  and  felt,  and  suffered.     Does  not 
the  soul  remain  susceptible  of  suffering  after  death ;   and 
may  not  God,  conformably  with  the  examples  here  laid 
down,  extend  to  it  in  a  future  state  the  same  salutary  dis- 
pensation, for  His  own  just  and  merciful  purposes?     But 
you  will  ask  what  vScripture  I  can  quo^.e  to  show  that  He 
really  does  so.     Now,  suppose  I  were  to  refer  you  to  the 
same  rule,  and  demand  from  you  the  text  by  which  you 
feel  warranted  to  profane  the  Sabbath,  and  sanctify  the 
Sunday  in  its  stead — what  will  you  have  to  answer  in  re- 
ply ?     Surely  if  the  authority  of  the  Catholic  Church  is 
sufficient  to  authorize  your  practice  in  the  one  case,  it  is 
equally  so  with  regard  to  my  belief  in  the  other.     But 
our  situations  arc  very  different ;  because  I  admit  the  au- 
thority of  the  Church  in  both  instances,  and  I  shall  prove 
that  her  doctrine  of  Purgatory,  so  far  Irom  opposing,  is 
grounded  on  Scripture.    Whereas  you  reject  the  Church, 
you  make,  as  you  say,  the  Scripture  the  only  rule  of  your 


56 


rURGATORY. 


faith  ;  and  yet  when  the  Scripture  says,  "  Thou  shalt 
keep  holy  the  Sabbath  day,"  you  say  I  will  not  sanctify 
the  Sabbath,  but  I  will  sanctify  the  day  after.  .  .  . 
This  tc  let  of  belief  is  proved  by  every  text  of  Scripture 
in  which  it  is  implied  that  God  will  render  to  every  man 
according  to  his  works.  ...  If  the  word  Purgatory 
has  anything  in  it  peculiarly  offensive,  you  will  not  be  the 
less  a  Catholic  for  rejecting  it,  and  using  the  Scriptural 
word  prison,  provided  you  admit  that  such  a  place  exists; 
in  which  God  after  having  forgiven  the  guilt  and  tempo- 
ral punishment  of  their  sins,  causes  the  souls  of  the  im- 
perfect just  to  undergo,  nevertheless,  a  temporary  chastise- 
ment, as  David  did  in  this  life,  before  admitting  them  into 
the  realms  of  felicity.  Now,  if  this  be  so,  is  it  not  rational 
to  believe  that  the  mercy  of  God  will  be  moved  by  the 
prayers  of  His  faithful  servants  on  earth,  who  intercede  in 
behalf  of  their  departed  brethren?  ...  In  a  word, 
the  economy  of  God  to  His  creatures  even  in  this  life  is 
consistent  with  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory. 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


57 


PURGATORY  AND  WHAT  WE  OWE  TO   THE   DEAD. 


II-  ^ 

•I 


ARCHBISHOP   LYNCH. 

The  infallible  Church,  the  spouse  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
the  Pillar  and  Groyne!  of  Truth  and  the  true  teacher  of  the 
doctrine  of  Christ,  has,  in  the  distribution  of  her  feasts 
and  festivals,  set  apart  one  day  in  the  year,  the  second  of 
November,  in  favor  of  the  suffering  souls  in  Purgatory. 
She  calls  on  all  her  children  to  assemble  around  her  sacred 
altars,  to  assist  and  pray  at  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass 
for  the  deliverance  from  Purgatory  of  the  souls  of  those 
who,  whilst  dying  in  peace  with  Our  Lord,  still  had  debts 
to  pay  to  His  infinite  justice. 

These  debts  were  contracted  by  the  commission  of  mor- 
tal sin,  whose  grievous  fault,  though  removed  by  the  Sac- 
rament of  Penance,  yet  left  on  the  soul  a  debt  which  was 
not  sufficiently  atoned  for,  or  by  the  commission  of  venial 
sin  not  sufficiently  repented  of.  Purgatory  is  one  of  the 
great  cdnsoling  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  Christ.  Only 
the  pure  and  perfect  can  enter  Heaven  ;  and  how  few  per- 
sons leave  this  earth  of  temptation,  sin,  and  trouble  in  that 
state  of  purity  and  perfection  !  If  there  were  not  a  place 
of  purification,  how  few  could  go  straight  to  Heaven ! 
Nearly  the  whole  human  race  would  be  deprived  forever 
of  the  beatific  vision  of  God.  God  has  chosen  this  way  ot 
exh'biting  His  justice  and  mercy  :  His  justice,  by  exact- 
ing the  last  particle  of  debt;  and  His  mercy,  by  saving 
the  poor  repentant  sinner.  God  rewards  every  one  ac- 
cording to  his  works.  Some  are  imperfect  through  want 
of  pure  intention,  through  carelessness,  vanity,  or  other 
causes,  like  the  hay  and  stubble  adhering  to  gold  and 
precious  stones  which  dull  their  lustre. 

4t  *  .^fr  ^V  Vc  *  * 

Oh,  how  few  are  perfect,  and  how  few  do  penance  in 
proportion  to  their  sins  !  How  few,  in  their  dealing  with 
their  fellow-men,  giving  measure  for  measure,  goods  equal 


f 


I    i 


58 


rURGATORY. 


to  the  money  paid  for  them,  or  services  equal  to  the  pay 
received  !  How  many  fail  in  charity,  in  words  and  ac- 
tions! How  many  prayers  said  carelessly  and  without 
thought,  even  at  the  most  solemn  times !  These  will  have 
to  be  repeated,  as  it  were,  in  Purgatory.  How  many  will 
suffer  from  their  want  of  charity  and  mercy  to  the  poor, 
and  failing  to  pay  their  just  dues  to  God's  Church  for  the 
spiritual  favors  they  receive  from  it !  "  If  we  give  you," 
says  St.  Paul,  "  spiritual  things,  you  should  administer 
to  us  temporal  things."  .     .     . 

All  spiritual  writers  agree  that  the  pains  of  Purgatory 
are  intense,  yet  the  souls  are  satisfied  to  suffer  till  the  last 
debt  is  paid.  They  would  not  wish  to  enter  Heaven  with 
stains  on  their  souls.  God,  in  His  great  mercy,  has  per- 
mitted some  souls  suffering  in  Purgatory  to  appear  to 
friends  on  earth  to  solicit  their  prayers  and  Masses,  and 
to  pay  their  debts.  This  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  and  Eccle- 
siastical History  at  all  times  attest.  In  these  days  when 
faith  is  fading  from  some  minds,  even  in  the  Church,  it 
behooves  especially  the  Bishops  to  remind  the  faithful  of 
their  duties  and  obligations  to  their  departed  friends.  It 
is  thought  by  some  that  an  expensive  funeral,  with  its 
many  carriages,  and  a  grand  monument  over  the  grave, 
w411  satisfy  all  the  requirements  of  decency  and  of  family 
love.  Alas !  if  the  dead  could  only  speak  from  their 
graves,  they  would  cry  out  and  say,  "  All  these  monu- 
ments and  this  worldly  pageantry  only  crush  us.  They 
only  satisfy  the  vanity  of  the  living,  but  in  no  way  allevi- 
ate our  sufferings  in  Purgatory."  .     .     . 

Bnt  the  Bishops  must,  from  time  to  time,  remind  the 
people  of  their  duty  towards  God's  servants  suffering  in 
Purgatory.  In  olden  times,  when  faith,  love,  and  affection 
were  stronger  than  now,  devotion  towards  the  souls  in 
Purgatory  showed  itself  in  numerous  foundations  in  favor 
of  the  souls  in  Purgatory.  Churches  and  canonries 
where  Masses  were  celebrated  ever}'^  day  by  canons  and 
monks,  benefices  for  the  education  of  poor  students,  hos- 
pitals for  the  care  of  the  sick,  periodical  distribution  of 


w 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


59 


alms  to  the  poor,  to  have  rosaries  and  other  prayers  said 
and  pilgrimages  made  for  the  souls  in  Purgat(jry.  All 
these  have  been  swept  away  by  the  ruthless  hand  of  the 
civil  power,  wishing  to  reform  the  Church  ;  and  even  at 
the  present  day,  when  the  Christian  soul  is  about  to 
appear  before  the  judgment-seat,  there  are  legal  impedi- 
ments in  the  way  of  his  making  by  will  donations  for 
prayers  or  Masses.  Therefore,  my  dear  people,  whilst 
you  are  well  make  provision  for  your  own  soul.  Do  not 
entrust  it  to  the  care  of  others  who  cannot  love  you 
more  th>.a  you  love  yourselves. 

^  'f!  ¥i  ¥:  ^  ^-  «- 

This  doctrine  of  Purgatory  has  always  been  taught  in 
the  Church  and  handed  down  from  bishops  and  priests 
to  their  successors  in  the  sacred  ministry,  and  by  the 
voice  of  the  people.  "  Stand  fast,  and  hold  the  tradition 
you  have  learned,  whether  by  word  or  by  our  epistle." 
(II.  Thess.  ii.  14.)  Now  prayers  and  Masses  for  the  dead 
are  to  be  found  in  every  ancient  liturgy  of  the  Church. 
There  is  no  Oriental  liturgy  without  prayers  for  those 
who  have  departed  in  peace.  The  Apostolic  Constitu- 
tions— the  most  ancient  and  genuine  work — speak  largely 
of  prayers  for  the  dead,  for  the  conversion  of  sinners. 

There  are  religious  congregations  and  pious  associa- 
tions specially  devoted  to  the  relief  of  the  souls  in 
Purgatory.  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  ordered  the  priests 
of  his  congregation  never  to  go  to  meals  without  first 
saying  the  Dc'  Profimdis  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory. 
The  Church  ends  all  the  prayers  of  the  divine  office 
with :  "  May  the  souls  of  the  faithful  departed,  through 
the  mercy  of  God,  rest  in  peace."  One  may  turn  away 
with  a  sad  thought  from  a  tomb  on  which  is  not  en- 
graved :  "May  he  rest  in  peace,"  or  on  which  a  cross  — 
the  emblem  of  our  hope  in  God  and  in  a  happy  resur- 
rection— does  not  figure. 

We  exhort  you,  beloved  children  in  Christ,  to  enter- 
tain an  earnest  charity  towards  the  souls  in  Purgatory. 
Vou  loved  them  during  life  ;  do  not  let  it  be  said  :  "  Out 


'  '"1 


iil 


I     t 


■::' 


^^i; 


li 


Co 


PURGATORY. 


of  sight,  out  of  mind."  Love  them  in  death  or,  Hving, 
wishing  earnestly  to  go  to  God.  This  charity  will 
greatly  help  yourselves.  If  a  cup  of  cold  water  given 
to  a  servant  of  God  shall  not  go  without  its  reward, 
how  much  more  a  cup  of  celestial  grace,  that  will  shorten 
the  time  in  the  flames  of  Purgatory  of  a  soul  that  most 
ardently  longs  to  see  God,  who  desires  it  Himself  with 
great  love,  and  will  reward  those  who  shorten  the  exile 
of  His  dear  servants.  **  Those,"  says  St.  Alphonsus 
Liguori,  "  who  succor  the  souls  in  Purgatory  will  be 
succored  in  turn  by  the  gratitude  of  those  whom  they 
have  relieved,  and  who  enjoy  sooner,  by  their  prayers, 
the  beatific  vision  of  God." 


* 


The  Council  of  Trent,  under  the  inspiration  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  has  made  decrees  on  the  subject  which 
bind  the  consciences  of  the  faithful.  In  the  Thirteenth 
Canon  of  the  Sixth  Session  it  decrees  "  that  if  any  one 
should  say  that  a  repentant  sinner,  after  having  received 
the  grace  of  justification,  the  punishment  of  eternal  pains 
being  remitted,  has  no  temporary  punishment  to  be  suf- 
fered, either  in  this  life  or  in  the  next,  in  Purgatory, 
before  he  can  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  God,  let 
him  be  anathema." 

Though  King  David  was  assured,  after  his  sincere 
repentance,  that  his  sin  was  forgiven,  yet  the  Prophet 
told  him  that  he  had  still  to  suffer  by  the  death  of  his  child. 

In  the  Twenty-fourth  Session  and  Third  Canon  the 
Holy  Council  defines  that  the  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  is 
propitiatory,  both  for  the  living  and  the  dead,  for  sins, 
punishments,  satisfactions,  and  for  other  necessities, 
according  to  Apostolic  traditions ;  and  the  Bishop, 
when  he  ordains,  places  the  patena  and  chalice,  with  the 
bread  and  wine,  in  the  hands  of  the  young  priest  and 
says  to  him :  "  Receive  the  power  to  offer  to  God  the 
Sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  as  well  for  the  living  as  for  the 
dead,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Amen." 
.  The  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  is,  therefore,  the  most 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


6i 


J-' 


powerful  means  of  relieving  the  souls  in  Purgatory  ;  next 
is  the  fervent  performance  of  the  Stations  of  the  Cross, 
to  which  so  many  indulgences  are  attached  ;  then  other 
indulgenced  prayers  ;  for  example,  the  Rosary.  Alms  to 
the  poor  is  another  powerful  means.  *'  Blessed  are  the 
merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy." 

There  is  another  means  which  our  ancestors  loved — 
to  educate  a  student  for  the  priesthood.  St.  Monica 
rejoiced,  on  her  death-bed,  that  she  had  a  son  to  re- 
member her  every  day  at  the  altar.  If  you  have  not  a 
son  you  can  adopt  one,  or  subscribe,  according  to  your 
means,  to  the  Students'  Fund. 

It  is  the  custom  in  many  places — and  we  wish  that  it 
should  be  introduced  where  it  is  not — to  receive  the 
offerings  of  the  people  on  All  Souls'  Day,  or  the  Sun- 
day previous,  or  subsequent,  and  the  proceeds  to  be 
computed  and  INIasses  offered  up  accordingly. 

We  attach  the  indulgences  of  the  Way  of  the  Cross 
to  certain  crucifixes,  and  thus  enable  persons  who  can- 
not conveniently  visit  the  Church  to  make  the  Stations 
there,  to  gain  the  indulgences  of  the  ^Stations  by  reciting 
fourteen  times  the  "■  Our  Father "  and  "  Hail  Mary," 
with  a  "  Glory  be  to  the  Father,"  etc.,  for  each  Station, 
and  five  "Our  Fathers"  and  "Hail  Marys"  in  honor  of 
the  five  Adorable  Wounds,  with  one  for  the  intentions 
of  the  Pope. 


!« 


62 


PURGATORY. 


PURGATORY    SURVEYED. 


!       i 


11  i 


FATHER    BINET,    S.  J. 

[The  following  passaj^cs  are  taken  from  a  most  excellent  and  valuable 
work,  "  Pury;atory  Surveyed,"  edited  by  the  late  lamented  Ur.  Anderdon, 
S.  J.,  being  by  him  "disposed,  abridged,  or  enlarged,"  from  a  treatise  by 
Father  Binet,  a  French  Jesuit,  published  at  Paris  in  1625,  at  Douay  in  1(127, 
and  translated  soon  aftjr  by  Father  Richard  Thimbleby,  an  English  mem- 
ber of  the  Society  of  Jesus.  Says  Dr.  Anderdon  in  his  preface  :  "  The 
alterations  ventured  upon  in  this  reprint,  consist  chiefly  in  the  mode  cf 
punctuation,  which,  being  probably  left  to  a  French  compositor,  are  anom- 
alous, and  often  perj)k'xing.  Some  expressions,  so  obsolete  as  to  prevent 
the  sense  being  clear,  and  in  the  same  degree  lessening  the  value  of  the 
book  to  the  general  reader,  have  been  exchanged  for  others  in  more  common 
use.  .  .  .  Let  us  earnestly  hope  that,  at  this  moment,  on  the  threshold 
of  the  month  specially  dedicated  by  the  Church  to  devotion  en  behalf  of 
the  Holy  Souls,  the  joint  work  of  Fatliers  Binet  and  Thimbleby  niay  pro- 
duce an  abundant  harvest  of  intercession.  If,  during  their  own  brief  time 
of  trial,  they  were  inspired  to  put  together  and  to  enforce  such  powerful 
motives  to  stir  up  the  faithful  to  this  devotion,  will  they  not  now  rejoice  in 
the  re-production  of  their  act  of  zeal  and  charity?  Puringthe  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years  which  have  elapsed  since  the  first  publication  of  the  French 
work,  many  changes  and  revolutions  h;\ve  taken  place  in  the  histories  of 
those  spots  of  earth,  known  as  France  and  England.  But  the  History  of 
Purgatory  is  ever  the  same;  "happiness  and  unhappiness"  combined; 
both  unspeakably  great ;  long  detention,  perhaps,  or  perhaps  swift  release, 
according  to  the  degree  of  faith  and  charity  animating  the  Church  militant. 
May  we  now,  and  henceforth,  realize  in  act,  in  habitual  practice,  and,  all 
the  more,  from  the  considerations  given  in  the  following  ])ages,  the  immense 
privilege  of  holding,  to  so  great  a  degree,  the  keys  of  Purgatory  in  our 
hands,] 

Beeieve  it,  it  is  one  of  the  first  rudiments,  but  main 
principles,  of  a  Christian,  to  captivate  his  understanding^, 
and  so  regulate  all  his  dictamens,  that  they  be  sure  to 
run  parallel  with  the  sentiments  of  the  Church.  And 
this  1  take  to  be  the  case  when  the  question  is  started 
about  Purgatory  fire,  which  I  shall  ever  reckon  in  the 
class  of  those  truths,  which  cannot  be  contradicted  with- 
out manifest  temerity ;  as  being  the  doctrine  generally 
preached  and  taught  all  over  Christendom. 


'  Published  by  Burns  &  Oates,  Eondon. 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


63 


You  must,  then,  conceive  I'urjj^atory  to  be  a  vast,  dark- 
some and  hideous  chaos,  lull  ot  tire  and  flames,  in  which 
the  souls  are  kept  close  prisoners,  until  they  have  fully 
satished  for  all  tiieir  misdemeanors,  accordin;^  to  the  esti- 
mate of  Divine  justice.     For  God  has  made  choice  of  this 
clement  of  fire  wherewith  to  ])unish  souls,  because  it  is 
the  most  active,  j)iercing',  sensible,'  and  insupi)ortable  of 
all  others.     But  that  which  quickens  it,  indeed,  and  gives 
it  more  life,  is  this  :  that  \^  acts  as  the  instrument  of  God's 
justice,  who,   by  His  omnipotent  power,  heij^htens  and 
reinforces    its   activity  as  He   pleases,  and    so  makes    it 
capable  to  act  upon  bodiless  spirits.     Do  not,  then,  look 
only  upon  this  fire,  though  in  good  earnest  it  be  dreadful 
enough  of  itself;  but  consider  the  Arm  that  is  stretched 
out,  and  the  Hand  that  strikes,  and  the  rigor  of  God's 
infinite  justice,  who,  through  this   element  of  fire,  vents 
His  wrath,  and  pours  out  whole  tempests  of  His  most 
severe  and  yet  most  just  vengeance.     So  that  the  fire 
works  as  much  mischief,-  as  I  may  say,  to  the  souls,  as 
God  commands  ;  and  He  commands  as  much  as  is  due; 
and  as  much  is  due  as  the  sentence   bears :  a  sentence 
irrevocably  pronounced  at  the  high  tribunal  of  the  severe 
and  rigorous  justice  of  an  angry  God,  and  whose  anger 
is  so  prevalent  that  the  Holy  Scripture  styles  it  **  a  day 
of  fury."     Now,  you  will  easily  believe  that  this  fire  is  a 
most  horrible  punishment  in    its   own  nature ;  but  you 
may  do  well  to   reflect  also  on  that  which  I  have  now 
suggested  ;  that  the  fury  of  Almighty  God  is,  as  it  were, 
the  fire  of  this  fire,  and  the  heat  of  its  heat;  and  that  He 
serves  Himself  of  it  as  He  pleases,  by  doubling  and  re- 
doubling its  sharp  pointed  forces ;  for  this  is  that  which 
makes  it  the  more  grievous   and  insupportable   to  the 
souls  that  are  thus  miserably  confined  and  imprisoned. 

They  were  not  much  out  of  the  way,  that  styled  Pur- 
gatory a  transitory  kind  of  hell,  because  the  principal 


ilil 


'  i.  c,  Apprehended  by  the  senses. 

''».  ^.,Not  implying  injury,  far  less  injustice;  but  simply  punishment 
and  suffering. 


\ 


^ 


'    l) 


11  i 


64 


PURGATORY. 


pains  of  tlic  damned  arc  to  be  found  tlicrc  ;  with  this  only 
difference,  that  in  hell  they  are  eternal,  and  in  Purgatory 
they  arc  only  transitory  and  nectinj^ :  for,  otherwise,  it  is 
probably  the  very  same  hre  that  burns  both  the  Holy 
Souls  and  the  damned  spirits;  and  the  pain  of  loss  is,  in 
both  i)laces,  tlic  chief  torment.  .  .  .  Now,  docs  not 
your  hair  stand  on  end?  does  not  your  heart  tremble, 
when  you  hear  that  the  poor  souls  in  Purgatory  are  tor- 
mented with  the  same,  or  the  like  flames  to  those  of  the 
damned?  Can  you  refrain  from  crying  out,  with  the 
Prophet  Isaias  :  "  Who  can  dwell  with  such  devouring 
fire,  and  unquenchable  burnings?"  Heavens!  what  a 
lamentable  case  is  this!  Those  miserable  souls,  who  of 
late,  when  they  were  wedded  to  their  bodies,  were  so 
nice  and  dainty,  forsooth,  that  they  durst  scarce  venture 
to  enjoy  the  comfc^rtable  heat  of  a  fire,  but  under  the 
protection  of  their  screens  and  their  fans,  for  fear  of 
spoiling  their  complexions,  and  if,  by  chance,  a  spaik  had 
been  so  rude  as  to  light  upon  them,  or  a  little  smoke,  it 
was  not  to  be  endured  :  .  .  .  — Alas  !  how  will  it  fare 
with  ther\  when  they  shall  see  themselves  tied  to  un- 
merciful firebrands,  or  imbodied,  as  it  were,  with  fiames 
of  fire,  surrounded  with  frightful  darkness,  broiled  and 
consumed  without  intermission,  and  perhaps  condemned 
to  the  same  fire  with  which  the  devils  arc  unspeakably 
tormented  ?    (Pages  4-7.) 

Good  God !  how  the  great  wSaints  and  Doctors  as- 
tonish me  when  they  treat  of  this  fire,  and  of  the  pain  of 
sense,  as  they  call  it !  For  they  peremptorily  pronounce 
that  the  fire  that  purges  those  souls,  those  both  happy 
and  unhappy  souls,  surpasses  all  the  torments  that  arc  to 
be  found  in  this  miserable  life  of  man,  or  are  possible  to 
be  invented,  for  so  far  they  go.  .  .  Thus  they  discourse  : 
The  fire  and  the  pains  of  the  other  world  are  of  another 
nature  from  those  of  this  life,  because  God  elevates  them 
above  their  nature  to  be  instruments  of  His  severity. 
Now,  say  they,  things  of  an  inferior  degree  can  never 


V- 


^ 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


65 


reach  the  power  of  siuli  thiiijj^s  as  are  of  a  hij^^her  lank. 
For  exam|)lc,  the  air,  let  it  be  ever  so  inlhniied,  unless  it  he 
converted  into  lire,  can  never  be  so  hot  as  lire.  Besides, 
God  bridles  llisri^or  in  this  world;  but,  in  the  next.  He 
lets  the  reins  loose  and  [)unishes  almost  ecjually  to  the 
desert.  And,  since  those  souls  have  preterred  creatures 
before  their  Creator,  He  seems  to  be  put  upon  a  neces- 
sity of  i)unishin<^  them  beyond  the  ordinary  strength  of 
creatures;  and  hence  it  is  that  the  fire  of  l'ur<j;'atory 
burns  more,  torments  and  inll'cts  more,  than  all  the 
creatures  of  this  life  are  a!_;le  to  do.  iiut  is  it  really  true 
that  ihe  least  pihi  ii,  Pucr^atory  e.ceeds  the  fi^reatest 
here  upon  earth?  ()  G<  dl  ihc  vc  j--  statement  makes  me 
tremble  for  fear,  and  my  very  heart  freezes  into  ice  with 
astonishment.  And  yet,  who  cVdiV  oppose  St.  Auij^ustiu..-, 
St.  Thomas,  St.  Ansclm,  St  Gregory  rhe  Grcal?  Is 
there  any  hope  of  carrying'  tlic  iiejj;\'itivc  asseT-ti/)ri  ac^ainst 
such  a  stream  of  Doctors,  who  'dl  maiiv.ain  i\v:  aflJrrtia- 
tive,  and  bring-  so  strong'  rcas'  :ii.  Uh'  Uj     .     .     . 

•::-  *  •;■?  •::•  #  *  -x- 

But  for  Thy  comfort,  there  are  Doct'">rs  in  the  Catholic 
Church  that  cannot  agree  with  so  much  soveriiy  ,  and, 
namely,  St.  Bonaventure,  who  is  vv'ry  pen  mpiorv  in 
denying  it.  "  For,  what  svay  is  Hicre,"  says  thij  holy 
Doctor,  "to  verify  so  great  a  panidox.  without  sounding 
reason,  and  destroying  the  infinite  mercy  of  God  ?  I  am 
easily  persuaded  there  are  Knmcnts  in  P\'rg'it<)ry  far  ex- 
ceeding any  in  this  mortal  life:  this  is  most  certain, 
and  it  is  but  reasorabh.  a  jhould  be  so ;  but  that  the 
least  there  should  be  more  terrible  than  the  most  ter- 
rible in  the  world  v:a\,not  enter  into  my  belief  May  it 
not  often  fall  ort  that  a  man  comes  to  die  in  a  most 
eminent  strie  of  perfection,  save  only,  that  in  his  last 
agony,  out  of  mere  frailty,  he  commits  a  venial  sin,  or 
carries  along  with  him  some  relic  of  his  former  failings, 
which  might  have  been  easily  blotted  out  with  a  Ptrfcr 
Nostcr,  or  washed  away  with  a  little  holy  water;  for  I 
am   supposing  it  to  be  some  very  small  matter.     Nc  w , 


I 


\  m 


66 


PURGATORY. 


! 


what  likelihood  is  there,  I  will  not  say,  that  the  infinite 
mercy  of  God,  but  that  the  very  rigor  of  His  justice, 
though  you  conceive  it  to  be  ever  so  severe,  should 
inflict  so  horrible  a  punishment  upon  this  holy  soul,  as 
not  to  be  equalled  by  the  greatest  torments  in  this  life  ; 
and  all  this  for  some  petty  fault  scarce  worth  the  speak- 
ing of?  How  !  would  you  have  God,  for  a  kind  of  trifle, 
to  punish  a  soul  full  of  grace  and  virtue,  and  so  severely 
to  punish  her  as  to  exceed  all  the  racks,  cauldrons,  fur- 
naces, and  other  hellish  inventions,  which  are  scarce 
inflicted  upon  the  most  execrable  criminals  in  the  world  ? 
(Pp.  9-1 1.) 

->f  *  «•  *  -:<•  %  4f 

It  is  not  the  fire,  nor  all  the  brimstone  and  tortures 
they  endure,  which  murders  them  alive.  No,  no ;  it  is 
the  domestical  cause  of  all  these  mischiefs  that  racks 
their  consciences  and  is  their  crudest  executioner.  This, 
this  is  the  greatest  of  their  evils  ;  for  a  soul  that  has 
shaken  off"  tlie  fetters  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  is  full  of  the 
love  of  God,  no  more  disordered  with  unruly  passions, 
nor  blinded  with  the  night  of  ignorance,  sees  clearly  the 
vast  injury  she  has  done  to  herself  to  have  offended  so 
good  a  God,  and  to  have  deserved  to  be  thus  banished 
out  of  His  sight  and  deprived  of  that  Divine  fruition. 
She  sees  how  easily  she  might  have  flown  up  straight  to 
heaven  at  her  first  parting  with  her  body,  and  what  trifle 
it  was  that  impeded  her.  A  moment  lost  of  those  inebriat- 
ing joys,  seems  to  her  now  worthy  to  be  redeemed  witli 
an  eternity  of  pains.  Then,  reflecting  with  herself  that  she 
was  created  only  for  God,  and  cannot  be  truly  satisfied 
but  by  enjoying  God,  and  that,  out  of  Him,  all  this 
goodly  machine  of  the  world  is  no  better  than  a  direct 
hell  and  an  abyss  of  evils.  Alas  !  what  worms,  what 
martrydoms,  and  what  nipping  pincers  are  such  jiinch- 
ing  thoughts  as  these.  The  fire  is  to  her  but  as  smoke 
in  comparison  to  this  vexing  remembrance  of  her  own 
follies,  which  betrayed  her  to  this  disgraceful  and  un- 
avoidable   misfortune.      There   was   a   king  who,   in    a 


humc 

the  p 

turnii 

he  h^ 

Strang 

a   yea 

cal  vh 

the  lo 

praise 

gator} 

right  ( 

Con; 
befall  ; 
blessec 
courajr 
horribl 
evil  to 
if  you 
confusi 
to  beho 
of  fire, 
but  a  s 
and  stin 
souls  o 
and  sin: 
whilst 
ing,  so 
kings,  ei 
oracles 
so  great 
confusio 
how  casi 
not.      8( 
tains  of 
the  gout 
silver  th 
in  that  fi 


II 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


67 


humor  gave  away  his  crown  and  his  whole  estate,  for 
the  present  refreshment  of  a  cup  of  cold  water ;  but,  re- 
turning a  little  to  himself  and  soberly  reflecting  what 
he  had  done,  had  like  to  have  run  stark  mad  to  see  the 
strange,  irreparable  folly  he  had  committed.  To  lose 
a  year,  or  two  years  (to  say  no  more^,  of  the  beatifi- 
cal vision  for  a  glass  of  water,  for  a  handful  of  earth,  for 
the  love  of  a  fading  beauty,  for  a  little  air  of  worldly 
praise,  a  mere  puff  of  honor — ah !  it  is  the  hell  of  Pur- 
gatory to  a  soul  that  truly  loves  God  and  frames  a 
right  conceit  of  things.    (Pp.  14,  15.) 

-»  •::•  *  -::■  -::-  *  -::• 

Confusion  is  one  of  the  most  intolerable  evils  that  can 
befall  a  soul ;  and,  therefore,  St.  Paul,  speaking  of  Our 
blessed  Saviour,  insists  much  upon  this,  that  He  had  the 
courage  and  the  love  for  us  all  to  overcome  the  pain  of  a 
horrible  confusion,  which  doubtless  is  an  insupportable 
evil  to  a  man  of  intelligence  and  courage.  Tell  me,  then, 
if  you  can,  what  a  burning  shame  and  what  a  terrible 
confusion  it  must  be  to  those  noble  and  generous  souls, 
to  behold  themselves  overwhelmed  with  a  confused  chaos 
of  fire,  and  such  a  base  fire  which  affords  no  other  light 
but  a  sullen  glimmering,  choked  up  with  a  sulphureous 
and  stinking  smoke ;  and  in  the  interim  to  know  that  the 
souls  of  many  country  clowns,  mere  idiots,  poor  women 
and  simple  religious  persons,  go  straight  up  to  heaven, 
whilst  they  lie  there  burning — they  that  were  so  know- 
ing, so  rich  and  so  wise ;  they  that  were  counsellors  to 
kings,  eminent  preachers  of  God's  word,  and  renowned 
oracles  in  the  world ;  they  that  were  so  great  divines, 
so  great  statesmen,  so  capable  of  high  employments.  This 
confusion  is  much  heightened  by  their  further  knowing  . 
how  easily  they  might  have  avoided  all  this  raid  would 
not.  Sometimes  they  would  have  given  whole  moun- 
tains of  gold  to  be  rid  of  a  stone  in  the  kidneys  or  a  fit  of 
the  gout,  colic  or  burning  fever,  and  for  a  handful  of 
silver  they  might  have  redeemed  many  years*  torments 
in  that  fiery  furnace ;  and,  alas !  they  chose  rather  to  give 


J 


.rrt^ 


68 


PURGATORY. 


f    i 


it  to  their  clogs  and  their  horses,  and  sometimes  to  men 
more  beasts  than  they  and  much  more  unworthy.  Me- 
thinks  this  thought  must  be  more  vexing  than  the  fire 
itself,  though  never  so  grievous. 

And  yet  there  remains  one  thought  more,  which  certain- 
ly has  a  great  share  in  completing  their  martyrdom  ;  and 
that  is  the  remembrance  of  their  children  or  heirs  which 
they  left  behind  them  ;  who  swim  in  nectar  and  live  joUily 
on  the  goods  which  they  purciiased  with  the  sweat  of 
their  brows,  and  yet  are  so  ungrateful,  so  brutish,  and  so 
barbarous  that  they  will  scarce  vouchsafe  to  say  a  Pater 
Nostcr  in  a  whole  month  for  their  souls  who  brought  them 
into  the  world,  and  w^ho,  to  place  them  in  a  terrestrial 
paradise  of  all  worldly  delights,  made  a  hard  venture  of 
their  own  souls  and  had  like  to  have  exchanged  a  tem- 
poral punishment  for  an  eternal.  The  leavings  and 
superfluities  of  their  lackeys,  a  throw  of  dice,  and  yet 
less  than  that,  might  have  set  them  free  from  these  hellish 
torments  ;  and  these  wicked,  ungrateful  wretches  would 

not  so  much  as  think  on  it.     (Pp.  31-33.) 

*  *  -h  *  ^;-  *  * 

Before  I  leave  off  finishing  this  picture,  or  put  a  period 
to  the  representation  of  the  pains  of  Purgatory,  I  cannot 
but  relate  a  very  remarkable  history  which  will  be  as  a 
living  picture  before  your  eyes.  But  be  sure  you  take  it 
not  to  be  of  the  number  of  those  idle  stories  which  pass 
for  old  wives'  talcs,  or  mere  imaginations  of  cracked 
brains  and  simple  souls.  No ;  I  will  tell  you  nothing  but 
what  Venerable  Bede,  so  grave  an  author,  witnesses  to 
have  happened  in  his  time,  and  to  have  been  generally 
believed  all  over  England  without  contradiction,  and  to 
.  have  been  the  cause  of  wonderful  effects  ;  and  which  is  so 
authenticated  that  Cardinal  Bellarmine,  a  man  of  such 
judgment  as  the  world  knows,  having  related  it  himself, 
concludes  thus :  *'  For  my  part  I  firmly  believe  this  his- 
tory, as  very  conformable  to  the  Holy  Scripture,  and 
whereof  I  can  have  no  doubt  without  wronging  truth 
and  wounding  my  own  conscience,  which  ought  readily 


to  yi 
and  ; 
and  a 
Ab 
in  th( 
being 
gator 
full  o" 
Here 
finite 
flames 
both 
whirlv 
ble  sc( 
and  01 
repose 
were  ti 
was   P 
sins,  ar 
until  tl 
free  be 
alms,  ai 
fice  of 
from  dc 
ful  rela 
of  the 
sj)cnt  t 
away  \\ 
partly  t 
profcjssi 
tongue 
spake 
world, 
ill  freezi 
much  sv 
liim,  ''  J] 
biting  c 
seen  otl: 


"mmm^^f^^ 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


69 


I 


to  yield  assent  unto  that  which  is  attested  by  so  many 
and  so  credible  witnesses  and  confirmed  by  such  holy 
and  admirable  events." 

About  the  year  of  our  Lord  690,  a  certain  Englishman, 
in  the  county  of  Nvirthumberland,  by  name  Brithelmus, 
bein^^  dead  for  a  tuno,  was  conducted  to  the  place  of  I\ir- 
<Tat()ry  by  a  guide,  whose  countenance  and  apparel  was 
full  of  light ;  you  may  imagine  it  was  his  good  Angel. 
Here  he  was  shown  two  broad  valleys  of  a  vast  and  in- 
finite length,  one  full  of  glowing  firebrands  and  terrible 
ilames,  the  other  as  full  of  hail,  ice,  and  snow ;  and  in 
both  these  were  innumerable  souls,  who,  as  with  a 
whirlwind,  were  tossed  up  and  down  out  of  the  intolera- 
ble scorching  fiames,  into  the  insufferable  rigors  of  cold, 
and  out  of  these  into  those  again,  without  a  moment  of 
repose  or  respite.  This  he  took  to  be  hell,  so  frightful 
were  those  torments ;  but  his  good  Angel  told  him  no,  it 
was  Purgatory,  where  the  souls  did  penance  for  their 
sins,  and  especially  such  as  had  deferred  their  conversion 
until  the  hour  of  death ;  and  that  many  of  them  were  set 
free  before  the  Day  of  Judgment  for  the  good  prayers, 
alms,  and  fasts  of  the  living,  and  chiefly  by  the  holy  Sacri- 
fice of  the  jNIass.  Now  this  holy  man,  being  raised  again 
from  death  to  life  by  the  power  of  God,  first  made  a  faith- 
ful relation  of  all  that  he  had  seen,  to  the  great  amazement 
of  the  hearers,  then  retired  himself  into  the  church  and 
spent  the  whole  niglit  in  prayer ;  and  soon  after,  gave 
away  his  whole  estate,  partly  to  his  wife  and  children, 
partly  to  the  poor,  and  taking  upon  hiiu  the  habit  and 
profession  of  a  mcmk,  led  so  austere  a  life  that  even  if  his 
tongue  had  been  silent,  yet  his  life  and  conversation 
spake  aloud  what  wonders  he  had  seen  in  the  other 
world.  Sometimes  they  would  see  him,  old  as  he  was, 
in  freezing  water  up  to  his  ears,  praying  and  singing  with 
much  sweetness  and  incredible  fervor;  and  if  they  asked 
him,  *'  Brother,  alas!  how  can  you  suffer  such  sharp  and 
biting  cold?"  *'()  my  friends,"  would  he  say,  "  1  have 
seen  other  manner  of  cold  than  this."     Thus,  when  he 


I 


: 


» 

is 

m 


I   ♦" 


■:i 


70 


PURGATORY. 


U' 


tl 


even  groaned  under  the  voluntary  burden  of  a  world  of 
most  cruel  mortifications,  and  was  questioned  how  it  was 
possible  for  a  weak  and  broken  body  like  his  to  undergo 
such  austerities,  "  Alas !  my  dear  brethren,"  would  he  still 
say,  "  1  have  seen  far  greater  austerities  than  these  :  they 
are  but  roses  and  perfumes  in  comparison  of  what  I  have 
seen  in  tlie  subterraneous  lakes  of  Purgatory."  And  in 
these  kinds  of  austerities  he  spent  the  remainder  of  his 
life  and  made  a  holy  end,  and  purchased  an  eternal  para- 
dise, for  having  had  but  a  siglit  of  the  pains  of  Purgatory. 
And  we,  dear  Christians,  if  wc  believed  in  good  earn- 
est, or  could  but  once  procure  to  have  a  true  sight  or 
apprehension  of  them,  should  certainly  have  other 
thoughts  and  live  in  another  fashion  than  wc  do.  (Pp. 
44-46.) 

******* 

Now,  would  you  clearly  see  how  the  souls  can  at  the 
same  instant  swim  in  a  paradise  of  delights  and  yet  be 
overwhelmed  with  the  hellish  torments  of  Purgatory? 
Cast  your  eyes  upon  the  holy  martyrs  of  God's  Church, 
and  observe  their  behavior.  They  were  torn,  mangled, 
dismembered,  flayed  alive,  racked,  broiled,  burnt — and 
tell  me,  was  not  this  to  live  in  a  kind  of  hell  ?  And  yet, 
in  the  very  height  of  their  torments  their  hearts  and  souls 
were  ready  to  leap  for  joy ;  you  would  have  taken  them 
to  be  already  transported  into  heaven.  Hear  them  but 
speak  for  themselves.  "  O  lovely  cross,"  cried  out  St. 
Andrew,  "  made  beautiful  by  the  precious  Body  of  Christ, 
how  long  have  I  desired  thee,  and  with  what  care  have  I 
sought  thee  !  and  now,  that  I  have  found  thee,  receive 
me  into  thine  arms,  and  lift  me  up  to  my  dear  Redeemer  ! 
O  death,'  how  amiable  art  thou  in  my  eyes,  and  how  sweet 
is  thy  cruelty  !  "  "  Your  coals,"  said  St.  Cecily,  "  your 
flaming  firebrands,  and  all  the  terrors  of  death,  are  to  me 
but  as  so  many  fragrant  roses  and  lilies,  sent  from 
heaven."     "  Shower  down  upon  me,"  cried  .St.  Stephen, 

'  From  the  author's  text,  it  seems  doubtfu]  whether  this  sentence  is  to 
be  attributed  to  St.  Andrew  or  St.  Cecilia. 


"  vvh( 
and  J 
Fath( 
excla: 
cruel 
thy  f 
little 
haste, 
the  b 
for  th( 
the  M 
a  thou 
a  plea 
come 
tyr;  - 
upon 
of  Chi 
Now  I 
the  ha 
claim, 
breach 
from  r 
Lord  . 
let  my 
joy  of 
soul  w| 
vsolatio 
expres 
You 
from 
capabl 
forth 
(Pp.  49 


t 


11 


But 
said, 
believe 
holy 


S( 


aia-Tfii  1111, 


MM 


^■, 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


71 


"  whole  deluges  of  stones,  whilst  I  see  tlie  heavens  open 
and  Jesus  Christ  standing  at  the  right  side  of  His  Eternal 
Father,  to  behold  the  fidelity  of  Mis  champion."  "  Turn," 
exclaimed  St.  Lawrence,  "  oh  !  turn,  the  other  side,  thou 
cruel  tyrant,  this  is  already  broiled,  and  cooked  fit  for 
thy  palate.  Oh,  how  well  am  I  pleased  to  suffer  this 
little  Purgatory  for  the  love  of  my  Saviour  !  "  "  Make 
haste,  O  my  soul,"  cried  St.  Agnes,  "  to  cast  thyself  upon 
the  bed  of  flames  which  thy  dear  Spouse  has  prepared 
for  thee!"  *' Oh,"  cried  St.  Fclicitas,  and  the  mother  of 
the  Machabees,  "  Oh,  that  I  had  a  thousand  children,  or 
a  thousand  lives,  to  sacrihce  them  all  to  my  God.  What 
a  pleasure  it  is  to  suffer  for  so  good  a  cause !  "  "  Wel- 
come tyrants,  tigers,  lions,"  writes  St.  Ignatius  the  Mar- 
tyr ;  "  let  all  the  torments  that  the  devils  can  invent  come 
upon  me,  so  I  may  enjoy  my  Saviour.  I  am  the  wheat 
of  Christ;  oh,  let  me  be  ground  with  the  lions'  teeth. 
Now  I  begin  indeed  to  be  the  disciple  of  Christ."  "  Oh, 
the  happy  stroke  of  a  sword,"  might  St.  Paul  well  ex- 
claim, "  that  no  sooner  cuts  off  my  head,  but  it  makes  a 
breach  for  my  soul  to  enter  into  heaven.  Let  it  be  far 
from  me  to  glory  in  anything,  but  in  the  Cross  of  Our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Let  all  evils  band  against  me,  and 
let  my  body  be  never  so  overloaded  with  afflictions,  the 
joy  of  my  heart  will  be  sure  to  have  the  mastery,  and  my 
soul  will  be  still  replenished  with  such  heavenly  con- 
solations that  no  words,  nor  even  thoughts,  are  able  to 
express  it." 

You  may  imagine,  then,  that  the  souls,  once  unfettered 
from  the  body,  may,  together  with  their  torments,  l)e 
capable  of  great  comforts  and  divine  favors,  and  break 
forth  into  resolute,  heroical,  and  even  supercelestial  acts. 
(Pp.  49-51). 

*  -X-  -X-  *  -X-  *  •!{- 

But  there  is  yet  something  of  a  higher  nature  to  be 
said.  .  .  .  We  have  all  the  reason  in  the  world  to 
believe  that  God,  of  His  infinite  goodness,  inspires  these 
holy  souls   with  a  thousand   heavenly  lights,  and   such 


i  M 

i 

■  I 

'    r 


I  ; 


■im 


72 


PURGATORY. 


ravishing  thoughts,  that  they  cannot  but  take  themselves 
to  be  extremely  happy :  so  happy  that  St.  Catherine  of 
Genoa  professed  she  had  learnt  of  Almighty  God  that, 
excepting  only  the  blessed  Saints  in  heaven,  there  were 
no  joys  com})arablc  to  those  of  the  souls  in  Purgatory. 
"  For,"  said  she,  "  when  they  consider  that  they  are  in 
the  hands  of  God,  in  a  place  deputed  for  them  by  His 
lioly  providence,  and  just  where  God  would  have  them, 
it  is  not  to  be  expressed  what  a  sweetness  they  find  in  so 
loving  a  thought :  and  certainly  they  had  infinitely  rather 
be   in   I\irgat()ry,  to  comply  with  His  divine   pleasure, 
than  be  in  Paradise,  with  violence  to  His  justice,  and  a 
manifest  breach  of  the  ordinary  laws  of  the  house  of  God. 
I  will  say  more,"  continued  she :  "  it  cannot  so  much  as 
steal  into  their  thoughts  to  desire  to  be  anywhere  else 
tlian  where  they  arc.     Seeing   that  God  has  so   placed 
them,  they  are  not  at  all  troubled  that  others  get  out 
before  them  ;  and  they  are  so  absorbed  in  this  profound 
meditation,  of  being  at  God's  disposal,  in  the  bosom  of 
His  sweet  providence,  that  they  cannot  so  much  as  dream 
of  being  anywhere   else.     wSo  that,  mcthinks,  those  kind 
expressions  of  Almighty  God,  by  His  prophets,  to  His 
chosen  people,  may  be  fitly  applied   to  the  unhappy  and 
yet  happy  condition  of  these  holy  souls.     '  Rejoice,   my 
people,'  says  the   loving  God  ;  *  for  I  swear  unto  you  by 
Myself,  that  when  you  shall  pass  through  flames  of  fire, 
they  shall  not  hurt  you :  I  shall  be  there  with  you  ;  I  shall 
take  off  the  edge,  and  blunt  the  points,  of  those  piercing 
flames.     I  will  raise  the  bright  Aurora  in  your  darkness; 
and  the  darkness  of  your  nights  shall  outshine  the  mid- 
day.    I  will  pour  out  My  peace  into  the  midst  of  your 
hearts,  and  replenish   your  souls  with  the  bright  shining 
lights  of  heaven.     You  shall  be  as  a  paradise  of  delights, 
bedewed  with  a  living  fountain  of  heavenly  waters.     You 
shall  rejoice  in  your  Creator,  an  '  I  will  raise  you  above 
the  height  of  mountains,  and  n   arish  you  with  manna 
and    the  sweet  inheritance  of  Jacob ;    for  the  mouth  of 
the  Lord  hath  spoken  it :  and  it  cannot  fail,  but  shall  be 


sure 
6i,6: 

Bu 

the  s( 

passic 

their 

these 

not  to 

extren 

deavoi 

sweat  ii 

enjoyei 

oppres: 

was  CO 

ner,   th 

withal  5 

of  our  1 

.    me,  too 

to  affon 

In  th( 
St.  Don: 
first  of 
he  founc 
souls  in 
vat  ion  ; 
jiidgmen 
rather  to 
the  wick( 
t'leir  salv 
as  leadin 
willingly 
that  I  be< 
<liat  is  at 
stowed, 
'lappiness 
1  believe 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


73 


sure  to  fall  out  so,  because  He  hath  spoken  it'"   (Pp. 
6i,  62). 

■JC-  vt-  *  *  %<•  *  * 

But  let  not  this  discourse  cool  your  charity ;  lest,  seeing 
the  souls  enjoy  so  much  comfort  in  Purgatory,  your  com- 
passion for  them  grow  slack,  and  so  continue  not  equal  to 
their  desert,  l^emember,  then,  that  notwithstanding  all 
these  comforts  here  rehearsed,  the  poor  creatures  cease 
not  to  be  grievously  tormented ;  and  consequently  have 
extreme  need  of  all  your  favorable  assistance  and  pious  en- 
deavors. When  Christ  Jesus  v/as  in  His  bitter  agony, 
sweating  bh  I  and  water,  the  superior  part  of  His  soul 
enjoyed  God  and  His  glory,  and  yet  His  body  was  so 
oppressed  with  sorrow,  that  He  was  ready  to  die,  and 
was  content  to  be  comforted  by  an  Angel.  In  like  man- 
ner, these  holy  souls  have  indeed  great  joys  ;  but  feel 
withal  such  bitter  torments,  that  they  stand  in  great  need 
of  our  help.  So  that  you  will  much  wrong  them,  and 
me,  too,  to  stand  musing  so  long  upon  their  joys,  as  not 
to  afford  them  succor.     (P.  80.) 

-»  -X-  •;<•  *  *  *  -)5- 

In  the  history  of  the  incomparable  order  of  the  great 
wSt.  Dominic,  it  is  authentically  related  that  one  of  the 
first  of  those  holy,  religious  men  was  wont  to  say,  that 
he  found  himself  not  so  much  concerned  to  pray  for  the 
souls  in  Purgatory,  because  they  are  certain  of  their  sal- 
vation ;  and  that,  upon  this  account,  we  ought  not,  in  his 
judgment,  to  be  very  solicitous  for  them,  but  ought 
rather  to  bend  our  whole  care  to  help  sinners,  to  convert 
the  wicked,  and  to  secure  such  souls  as  are  uncertain  of 
their  salvation,  and  probably  certain  of  their  damnation, 
as  leading  very  evil  lives.  Here  it  is,  said  he,  that  I 
willingly  employ  my  wliole  endeavors.  It  is  upon  these 
that  I  bestow  my  Masses  and  prayers,  and  all  that  little 
111  at  is  at  my  disposal ;  and  thus  I  take  it  to  be  well  be- 
stowed. But  upon  souls  that  have  an  assurance  of  eternal 
happiness,  and  can  never  more  lose  God  or  offend  Him, 
1  believe  not,  said  he,  that  one  ought  to  be  so  solicitous. 


74 


rURGATORV. 


II 


u, 


This  certainly  was  but  a  poor  and  weak  discourse,  to  give 
it  no  severer  a  censure  ;  and  the  consequence  of  it  was 
this,  that  the  good  man  did  not  only  himself  forbear  to 
help  these  poor  souls,  but,  which  was  worse,  dissuaded 
others  from  doing  it ;  and,  under  color  of  a  greater  char- 
ity, withdrew  that  succor  which,  otherwise,  good  people 
would  lil)erally  have  afforded  them.  But  God  took  tlieir 
cause  in  hand  ;  for,  permitting  the  souls  to  appear  and 
sIkjw  themselves  in  frightful  shapes,  and  to  haunt  the 
good  man  by  night  and  day  without  resj)ite,  still  filling 
his  fancy  with  dreadful  imaginations,  and  his  eyes  with 
terrible  spectacles,  and  withal  letting  him  know  who  they 
were,  and  why,  with  God's  permission,  they  so  impor- 
tuned him  with  their  troublesome  visits,  you  may  believe 
the  good  Father  became  so  affectionately  kind  to  the 
soids  in  Purgatory,  bestowed  so  many  jNIasses  and  pray- 
ers upon  them,  preached  so  fervently  in  their  behalf, 
stirred  up  so  many  to  the  same  devotion,  that  it  is  a  thing 
incredible  to  believe,  and  not  to  be  expressed  with  elo- 
quence. Never  did  you  see  so  many  and  so  clear  and 
convincing  reasons  as  he  alleged,  to  demonstrate  that  it 
is  the  most  eminent  piece  of  fraternal  charity  in  this  life 
to  [)ray  for  the  souls  departed.  Love  and  fear  are  the 
two  most  excellent  orators  in  the  world  ;  they  can  teach 
all  rhetoric  in  a  moment,  and  infuse  a  most  miraculous 
eloquence.  This  good  Father,  w^ho  thought  he  should 
have  been  fri.Qfhtened  to  death,  was  cfrown  so  fearful  of  a 
second  assault,  that  he  bent  his  whole  understanding  to 
invent  the  most  pressing  and  convincing  arguments  to 
stir  up  the  world  both  to  pity  and  to  piety,  and  so  per- 
suade souls  to  help  souls  ;  and  it  is  incredible  what  good 
ensued  thereupon.     (Pp.  82-84.) 

*  w  *  ->j  *  ^-  -X- 

Is  there  anything  within  the  whole  circumference  of 
the  universe  so  worthy  of  compassion,  and  that  may  so 
deservedly  claim  the  greatest  share  in  all  your  devotions 
and  charities,  as  to  see  our  fathers,  our  mothers,  our  near- 
est and  dearest  relations,  to  lie  broiling  in  cruel  flames, 


and  tr 
cruelt 
earth  i 
this,  m 
forces. 

St.  T 
our  wo 
see  wh( 
sity,  a  ^t 
where  ; 
to  run  t 
not  able 
than  to 
God?     ■ 
are  sure 
of  more 
ery  in  t 
8:lory,  th 
eternally 
more  of  t 
sighs,  yoi 
your  dev 
goods;  I 
translatin 
torments 
Francis  ^ 
the  other, 
The  dang 
pleasing, 
ployed, 
with  so  li 
sand  beau 
ot  losing  a 
^ain  that 
Would  per 
I'ersevere 
salvation. 


M 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


75 


and  to  cry  to  us  for  help  with  tears  that  arc  able  to  move 
cruelty  itself?  Whence  I  conclude  there  is  not  upon  the 
earth  any  object  that  deserves  more  commiseration  tlian 
this,  nor  where  fraternal  charity  can  better  employ  all  her 
forces.     (P.  86.) 


* 


* 


a 


St.  Thomas  tells  us  there  is  an  order  to  be  observed  in 
our  works  of  charity  to  our  neighbor;  that  is,  we  are  to 
see  where  there  is  a  g'reatcr  obligation,  a  greater  neces- 
sity, a  greater  merit,  and  the  like  circumstances.  Now, 
where  is  there  more  necessity,  or  more  obligation,  than 
to  run  to  the  fire,  and  to  help  those  that  lie  there,  and  arc 
not  able  to  get  out  ?  Where  can  you  have  more  merit, 
than  to  have  a  hand  in  raising  up  Saints  and  servants  of 
God  ?  Where  have  you  more  assurance  than  where  you 
are  sure  to  lose  nothing?  W^hcre  can  you  find  an  object 
of  more  compassion,  than  where  there  is  the  greatest  mis- 
cry  in  the  world  ?  Where  is  there  seen  more  of  God's 
glory,  than  to  send  new  Saints  into  heaven  to  praise  God 
eternally?  Lastly,  where  can  you  show  more  charity,  and 
more  of  the  love  of  God,  than  to  employ  your  tears,  yoia* 
sighs,  your  goods,  your  hands,  your  heart,  your  life,  and  all 
your  devotion,  to  procure  a  good  that  surpasses  all  other 
goods ;  I  mean,  to  make  souls  happy  for  all  eternity,  by 
translating  them  into  heavenly  joys,  out  of  insupportable 
torments?  That  glorious  Apostle  of  the  Indies,  St. 
Francis  Xavier,  could  run  from  one  end  of  the  world  to 
the  other,  to  convert  a  soul,  and  think  it  no  long  journey. 
The  dangers  by  sea  and  land  seemed  sweet,  the  tempests 
pleasing,  the  labor  easy,  and  his  whole  time  well  em- 
l)loycd.  Good  God !  what  an  advantage  have  we,  that 
with  so  little  trouble  and  few  prayers,  may  send  a  thou- 
sand beautiful  souls  into  heaven,  without  the  least  hazard 
of  losing  anything  ?  St.  Francis  Xavier  could  not  be  cer- 
tain that  the  Japanese,  for  example,  whom  he  baptized, 
would  persevere  in  their  faith  ;  and,  though  they  should 
[•ersevere  in  it,  he  could  have  as  little  certainty  of  their 
salvation.     Now,  it  is  an  article  of  our  faith,  that  the  holy 


'\  n 


il 


;6 


PURGATORY. 


souls  in  Purj^atory  arc  in  j^racc,  and  shall  assuredly  one 
day  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.     (Pp.  91,  92.) 
Vc  •::•  ■:<•  ■>;•  •:<•  •;<•  «• 

We  read  in  the  life  of  St.  Catherine  of  Bologna,  .  . 
that  she  had  not  only  a  strange  tenderness  for  the  souls, 
but  a  singular  devotion  to  them,  and  was  wont  to  recom- 
mend herself  to  them  in  all  her  necessities.  The  reason 
she  alleged  for  it  was  this:  that  she  had  learned  of  Al- 
niighty  Ciod  how  she  had  iVe([ucntly  obtained  far  greater 
favors  by  their  intercession  than  by  any  other  means. 
And  the  story  adds  this:  that  it  often  happ-.neci  that 
what  she  begged  of  Ciod,  at  the  intercession  of  the  Saints 
in  iieaven,  she  could  never  obtain  of  Him;  and  yet, 
as  soon  as  she  addressed  herself  to  the  souls  in  Pur- 
gatory she  had  her  suit  instantly  granted.  Can  there 
be  any  question  but  there  arc  souls  in  that  purging  fire 
who  are  of  a  higher  i)itch  of  sanctity,  and  of  far  greater 
merit  in  the  sight  of  God,  than  a  thousand  and  a  thou- 
vsand  Saints  who  are  already  glorious  in  the  Court  of 
Heaven.     {V.  102.) 

-,!•  -/!•  ■%•  %  -A-  *  4> 

Cardinal  Baronius,  a  man  of  credit  beyond  exxeption, 
relates,  in  his  Ecclesiastical  Annals,  how  a  person  of  rare 
virtue  found  himself  dangerously  assaulted  at  the  hour  of 
his  death  ;  and  that,  in  this  agony,  he  saw  the  heavens 
open  and  about  eight  thousand  champions,  all  covered 
with  white  armor,  descend,  who  fell  instantly  to  encour- 
age him  by  giving  him  this  assurance :  that  they  were 
come  to  fight  for  him  and  to  disengage  him  from  that 
doubtful  combat.  And  when,  with  infinite  comfort,  and 
tears  in  his  eyes,  he  besought  them  to  do  him  the  favor 
to  let  him  know  who  they  were  that  had  so  highly 
obliged  him:  "We  are,"  said  they,  "  the  souls  whom 
you  have  saved  and  delivered  out  of  Purgatory ;  and 
now,  to  requite  the  favor,  wx  are  come  down  to  convey 
you  instantly  to  heaven."     And  with  tiiat,  he  died. 

We  read  another  such  story  of  St.  Gertrude;  how  she 
was  troubled  at  her  death   to  think  what  must  become 


of  her, 

of  her 

reservi 

Saviou 

"ot   on 

coiuhuA 

numera 

her  ferv 

drcd-fol 

which   t 

better   n 

(^'p.  104, 

The  C 

satisfy,  b 

Court  of 

"ally  ban 

Where! 

impetratii 

former  sa 

treasury  ( 

from  othc 

derived  fi- 

looked  foij 

The  CI 

advantage] 

Jielp  the  sf 

factory   yyl 

frages,  wh] 

^vho  are  r| 

tiieir  sins. 

suffered  a 

into   heavt 

'^'•pply  for 

nii^nt,  as  fij 

*'iat  stands! 

Jnmself 

entering  be 


i    )1 


fi 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


;; 


of  her,  since  she  had  tjlvcii  away  all  the  rich  treasure 
of  her  satisfactions  to  redeem  other  poor  souls,  without 
reservin<^  anything;  to  herself;  but  that  Our  Blessed 
vSaviour  gave  iier  the  comfort  to  know  that  slie  was 
not  onlv  to  have  the  like  favor  of  bein;^  immediately 
conducted  into  heaven  out  of  this  world,  by  those  in- 
numerable souls  whom  she  had  sent  thither  before  her  by 
her  fervent  })ravers,  but  was  there  also  to  receive  a  hun- 
dred-fold of  etc  rnal  ^lory  in  reward  ot  her  charity.  By 
which  examples  we  may  learn  that  we  cannot  make 
better   use  of  our  devotion  and  charity  than  this  way. 

(Pp.  104,  105.) 

^;-  •»  *  *  *  *  % 

The  Church  Triumphant,  to  speak  properly,  cannot 
satisfy,  because  there  is  no  place  for  penal  works  in  the 
Court  of  Heaven,  whence  all  grief  and  pain  are  eter- 
nallv  banished. 

Wherefore,  the  Saints  may  well  proceed  by  way  of 
impetration  and  prayers ;  or,  at  most,  represent  their 
former  satisfactions,  which  are  carefully  laid  up  in  the 
treasury  of  the  Church,  in  lieu  of  those  which  are  due 
from  others;  but,  as  for  any  new  satisfaction  or  "payment 
derived  from  any  penal  act  of  their  own,  it  is  not  to  be 
looked  for  in  those  happy  mansions  of  eternal  glory. 

The  Church  Militant  may  do  either ;  as  having  this 
advantage  over  the  Church  Triumplumt,  that  she  can 
help  the  souls  in  Purgatory  by  her  prayers  and  satis- 
factory works,  and  by  offering  up  her  charitable  suf- 
frages, wherewith  to  pay  the  debts  of  those  poor  souls 
who  are  run  in  arrear  in  point  of  satisfaction  due  for 
their  sins.  Had  they  but  fasted,  prayed,  labored,  or 
suffered  a  little  more  in  this  life,  they  had  gone  directly 
into  heaven;  what  they  unhappily  neglected  we  may 
supply  for  them,  and  it  will  be  accepted  for  good  pay- 
ment, as  from  their  bails  and  sureties.  You  know,  he 
that  stands  surety  for  another  takes  the  whole  debt  upvon 
himself.  This  is  our  case ;  for,  the  living,  as  it  were, 
entering  bond  for  the  dead,  become  responsible  for  their 


IP 


us 
im 


\'i 


78 


PURGATORY. 


1 


I 


debts,  aiKl  f)(Tcr  up  fasts  for  fasts,  tears  for  tears,  in  the 
same  measure  and  proportion  as  tliey  were  liable  to 
them,  and  so  defray  tiie  debt  of  their  friends  at  their  own 

charjj^e,  and  make  all  elear,      (Pp.  117,  118.) 

■;:-  ■•/:  x-  'A  'A  *  ^ 

I  am  in  love  with  that  reli*;ious  i)raetiec  of  Bolo<^na, 
where,  upon  funeral  days,  they  eaiisc  hundreds  and  thou- 
sands of  Masses  to  be  said  for  the  soul  departed,  in  lieu  of 
other  superfluous  and  vain  ostentations.  They  stay  not 
for  the  anniversary,  nor  for  any  other  set  day  ;  but  in- 
stantly do  their  best  to  release  the  poor  soul  from  her  tor- 
ments, who  must  needs  think  the  year  long,  if  she  must 
stay  for  help  till  her  anniversary  day  ai)pears.  They  do 
not,  for  all  this,  desi)ise  the  laudable  customs  of  the 
Church  ;  they  bury  their  friends  with  honor  ;  they  clothe 
j^reat  numbers  of  poor  people;  they  <^ive  liberal  alms; 
but,  as  there  is  nothing'  so  certain,  nothing  so  efficacious, 
nothing  so  divine,  as  tlie  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  they 
fix  their  whole  affection  there,  and  strive  all  they  can  to 
relieve  the  souls  this  way  ;  and  arc  by  no  means  so  lavish, 
as  the  fashion  is,  in  other  idle  expenses  and  inopportune 
feastings,  which  arc  often  more  troublesome  to  the  living 
than  comfortable  to  the  dead. 

But  you  may  not  only  comfort  the  afflicted  souls  by 
procuring  Masses  for  them,  nor  yet  only  by  oficring  up 
your  prayers,  fasts,  alms-deeds,  and  such  other  works  of 
piety ;  but  you  may  bestow  upon  them  all  the  good  you 
do,  and  all  the  evil  you  sutler,  in  this  world.  ...  If 
you  offer  up  unto  God  all  that  causes  you  any  grief  or 
affliction,  for  the  present  relief  of  the  poor  languishing 
souls,  you  cannot  believe  what  ease  and  comfort  they  will 
find  by  it.     (I'p.  123-125). 

■A  %  -t-  ^<-  *  *  * 

The  world  has  generally  a  great  esteem  of  Monsieur 
d'Argenton,  Philip  Commines  ;  and  many  worthily  admire 
him  for  the  great  wisdom  and  sincerity  he  has  labored  to 
express  in  his  whole  history.  But,  for  my  part,  I  com- 
mend him  for  nothing  more  than  for  the  prudent  care  he 


DOCTRINAL  AND  UKVOTIONAL. 


79 


took  licrc  for  tlio  wflfarc  of  Iiis  own  soul  in  the  otiicr 
world.  For,  luiv  inj^  built,  a  {j^oodlv  clKi|)t'l  at  the  Aui^ais- 
tinians  in  I'aris,  and  left  tlicni  a  <;<)od  foundation,  he  tied 
them  to  this  perpetual  obliLcation,  that  they  should  no 
sooner  rise  from  table,  but  they  should  be  sure  to  pray 
for  the  rest  of  this  preeious  soul.  And  he  ordered  it  thus, 
by  his  express  will,  that  one  of  the  relij^ious  should  first 
say  aloud:  "Let  us  ])niy  for  the  soul  of  Monsieur  d'Ar- 
genton;"  and  tlien  all  should  instantly  say  the  i)sahn  Jh' 
Profundis.  Gerson  lost  not  his  labor  when  he  took  such 
pains  to  teaeh  little  ehildren  to  repeat  often  these  words: 
"  My  God,  my  Creator,  have  pity  on  Thy  poor  servant, 
Jolin  Gerson."  For  these  innoecnt  souls,  all  the  wliile 
the  j^ood  man  was  dyin<;-,  and  after  he  was  dead,  went  up 
and  down  the  town  with  a  mournful  voice,  sinL;;-in^  the 
short  lesson  he  had  taui^ht  them,  and  comforting  his  dear 
soul  with  their  innocent  prayers. 

Now,  as  I  must  commend  their  prudence  who  thus 
wisely  cast  about  how  to  provide  for  their  own  soids, 
against  they  come  into  Purgatory,  so  I  cannot  but  more 
highly  magnify  their  charity,  who,  Icsssolicitouii  for  them- 
selves, employ  their  whole  care  to  save  others  out  of  that 
dreadful  fire.  And  sure  I  am,  they  can  lose  nothing  by 
the  bargain,  who  dare  thus  trust  God  with  their  own 
souls,  while  they  do  their  uttermost  to  helj)  others;  nay, 
though  they  should  follow  that  imi)aralleled  example  of 
Father  Hernando  de  Monsoy,  of  the  Society  of  Jesus, 
who,  not  content  to  give  away  all  he  could  from  himself 
to  the  poor  souls,  while  he  lived,  made  them  his  heirs  after 
death ;  and,  by  express  will,  bequeathed  them  all  the 
Masses,  rosaries,  and  whatsoever  else  should  be  offered 
for  him  by  his  friends  upon  earth.     (Pp.  131-132.) 


* 


-* 


It  will  not  be  amiss  here  to  resolve  you  certain  pertinent 
questions.  Whether  the  suffrages  we  offer  up  unto  God 
shall  really  avail  them  for  whom  we  offer  them ;  and 
whether  they  alone,  or  others  also,  may  receive  benefit  by 
them  ?    Whether  it  be  better  to  pray  for  a  few  at  once,  or 


.-! 


}i 


It 

e, 
c, 
ar 
us 
im 


^\ 


'ii 


f 


t 


I 


l- 1. 


80 


PURGATORY. 


for  many,  or  for  all  the  souls  together,  and  for  what  souls 
in  particular? 

To  the  lirst  I  answer :  if  your  intention  be  to  help  any 
one  in  particular  who  is  really  in  Purgatory,  so  your  work 
be  good,  it  is  infallibly  applied  to  the  person  upon  whom 
you  bestow  it.  For,  as  divines  teach,  it  is  the  intention 
of  the  offerer  which  governs  all ;  and  God,  of  His  infinite 
goodness,  accommodates  Himself  to  the  petitioner's  re- 
quest, applying  unto  each  one  what  has  been  offered  for 
its  relief.  If  you  have  nobody  in  your  thoughts  for  whom 
you  offer  up  your  prayers,  they  are  only  beneficial  to 
youiself;  and  what  would  be  thus  lost  for  want  of  appli- 
cation, God  lays  up  in  the  treasury  of  the  Church,  as 
being  a  kind  of  spiritual  waif  or  stray,  to  which  nobody 
can  lav  any  just  claim.  And,  since  it  is  the  intention 
which  ntitles  one  to  what  is  offered  before  all  others, 
what  right  can  others  pretend  to  it ;  or  with  what  justice 
can  it  be  parted  or  divided  amongst  others,  who  were 
never  thought  of? 

And  hence  I  take  my  starting-point  to  resolve  your 
other  question— that  if  you  regard  their  best  advantage 
whom  you  have  a  mind  to  favor,  you  had  better  pray  for 
a  few  than  for  many  together;  for,  since  the  merit  of  your 
devotions  is  but  limited,  and  often  in  a  very  small  propor- 
tion, the  more  you  divide  and  subdivide  it  amongst  many, 
the  lesser  share  comes  to  every  one  in  particular.  As  if 
you  should  distribute  a  crown  or  an  angel '  amongst  a 
thousand  poor  people,  you  easily  see  your  alms  would 
be  so  inconsiderable,  they  would  be  little  better  for  it ; 
wdiereas,  if  it  were  all  bestowed  upon  one  or  two,  it  were 
enough  to  make  them  think  themselves  rich. 

N(^w,  to  define  precisely,  whether  it  be  always  better 
done,  to  help  one  or  two  souls  efficaciously,  than  to  yield 
a  little  comfort  to  a  great  many,  is  a  question  I  leave  for 
you  to  exercise  your  wits  in.     I  could  fancy  it  to  be  your 

'  A  gold  coin  of  that  period   so  called  because  it  was  stamped  with  the 
image  of  an  angel. 


best  c 

some 

her  u] 

favors 

genen 

fear  e 

bestov 

And  ^ 

since  i 

charitj 

their  \ 

dispose 

to  then 

fellows 

heaven 

her  haf 

truly  sa 

but  the 

fort  anc 

It  wo 

who  ne 

only  chr 

testamei 

be  realli 

and  ncv 

And  yet 

part,  apj 

down  fo] 

are  ther 

rigorous 

and  exai 

the  law  ] 

another's 

kind  of  1 

fault  lies 

the  least 

justice,  bi 


II1»J>..-  . 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


8i 


best  course  to  do  both ;  that  is,  sometimes  to  single  out 
some  particular  soul,  and  to  use  all  your  powers  to  lift 
her  up  to  heaven ;  sometimes,  again,  to  parcel  out  your 
favors  upon  many  ;  and,  now  and  then,  also  to  deal  out  a 
general  alms  upon  all  Purgatory.  And  3'ou  need  not 
fear  exceeding  in  this  way  of  charity,  whatsoever  you 
bestow  ;  for  you  may  be  sure  nothing  will  be  lost  by  it. 
And  St.  Thomas  will  tell  you,  for  your  comfort,  that 
since  all  the  souls  in  Purgatory  are  perfectly  united  in 
charity,  they  rejoice  exceedingly  when  they  see  any  of 
their  whole  number  receive  such  powerful  helps  as  to 
dispose  her  for  heaven.  They  every  one  take  it  as  done 
to  themselves,  whatsoever  is  bestowed  upon  any  of  their 
fellows,  whom  they  love  as  themselves ;  and,  out  of  a 
heavenly  kind  of  courtesy,  and  singular  love,  they  joy  in 
her  happiness,  as  if  it  were  their  own.  So  that  it  may  be 
truly  said,  that  you  never  pray  for  one  or  more  of  them, 
but  they  are  all  partakers,  and  receive  a  particular  com- 
fort and  satisfaction  by  it.     (Pp.  132-134.) 

■Y:  -X-  *  •»  *  *  * 

It  would  go  hard  with  many,  were  it  true  that  a  person 
who  neglected  to  make  restitution  in  his  life-time,  and 
only  charged  his  heirs  to  do  it  for  him  in  his  last  will  and 
testament,  vshall  not  stir  out  of  Purgatory  till  restitution 
be  really  made ;  let  there  be  never  so  many  Masses  said, 
and  never  so  many  satisfactory  works  offered  up  for  him. 
And  yet  St.  Bridget,  whose  revelations  are,  for  the  most 
part,  approved  by  the  Church,  hesitates  not  to  set  this 
down  for  a  truth  which  God  had  revealed  unto  her.  Nor 
are  there  wanting  grave  divines  that  countenance  this 
rigorous  position,  and  bring  for  it  many  strong  reasons 
and  examples,  which  they  take  to  be  authentical :  and 
the  law  itself,  which  says  that  if  a  man  do  not  restore 
another's  goods,  there  will  always  stick  upon  the  soul  a 
kind  of  blemish,  or  (obligation  of  justice.  And  since  the 
fault  lies  wholly  at  his  door,  he  cannou,  say  they,  have 
the  least  reason  to  complain  of  the  severity  of  God's 
justice,  but  must  accuse  his  own  coldness  and  extreme 


i 


t5      "i 


82 


PURGATORY. 


neglect  of  his  own  welfare.  Nay,  even  (hose  that  are  of 
the  contrary  persuasion,  yet  maintain  that  it  is  not  only 
much  more  secure,  but  far  more  meritorious,  to  satisfy 
such  obligations  while  we  live,  than  to  trust  others  with 
it,  let  them  be  never  so  near  and  dear  to  us.  .  .  .  (Pp. 
140,141.) 

*  *  *  *  ^-  *  * 

.  .  .  ,  I  have  just  cause  to  fear  that  all  I  can  say 
to  you  will  hardly  suffice  to  mollify  that  hard  heart  of 
yours ;  and,  therefore,  my  last  refuge  shall  be  to  set 
others  on,  though  I  call  them  out  of  the  other  world. 

And  first,  let  a  damned  soul  read  you  a  lecture,  and 
teach  you  the  compassion  you  ought  to  bear  to  your 
afflicted  brethren.  Remember  how  the  rich  glutton  in 
the  Gospel,  although  he  was  buried  in  hell-fire,  took  care 
for  his  brothers  who  survived  him  ;  and  besought  Abra- 
ham to  send  Lazarus  back  into  the  world,  to  preach  and 
convert  them,  lest  they  should  be  so  miserable  as  to  come 
into  that  place  of  torments.  A  strange  request  for  a 
damned  soul!  and  which  may  shame  you,  that  are  so 
little  concerned  for  the  souls  of  your  brethren,  who  are 
in  so  restless  a  condition. 

In  the  next  place,  I  will  bring  in  the  soul  of  your  dear 
father,  or  mother,  to  make  her  own  just  complaints 
against  you.  Lend  her,  then,  a  dutiful  and  attentive  ear; 
and  let  none  of  her  words  be  lost ;  for  she  deserN'cs  to  be 
heard  out,  while  she  sets  forth  the  state  of  her  most 
lamentable  condition.  Peace!  it  is  a  holy  soul,  though 
clothed  in  flames,  that  directs  her  speech  to  you  after 
this  manner : 

"  Am  I  not  the  most  unfortunate  and  wretched  parent 
that  ever  lived  ?  I  that  was  so  silly  as  to  presume  that 
having  ventured  my  life,  and  my  vcr}'-  soul  also,  to  leave 
my  children  at  their  ease,  they  would  at  least  have  had 
some  pity  on  me,  and  endeavor  to  procure  for  me  some 
ease  and  comfort  in  my  torments.  Alas  !  I  burn  insuffer- 
ably, I  suffer  infinitely,  and  have  done  so,  I  know  not 
how  long ;  and  yet  this  is  not  the  only  thing  that  grieves 


me. 
niys( 
sligh 
care 
a  Ma 
say,  ; 
own 
and  t( 
Who 
my  vc 
vexati 
nic  wl 
are  so 
willing 
and   til 
ctcrnnl 
these  d 
com  fori 
the  tho 
miseraL 
singing 

"vvherea; 
torment 
be  Iook( 
whom 
this  wl 
thus  to  : 
my  chile 
blame  a 
the  causi 
in  the  g 
trusted  1 
siglit  of 
all  the  m 
Did  I  no 
the  only 
in  the  n 
to  be  libe 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


83 


mc.  Alas,  no !  it  i:,  a  greater  vexation  to  nic  to  sec 
myself  so  soon  Ibrgotten  by  my  own  children,  and  so 
sliglited  by  them,  ior  whom  i  have  in  vain  taken  so  much 
care  and  pains.  Ah,  dost  thou  grudge  thy  poor  mother 
a  Mass,  a  slight  alms,  a  sigh,  or  a  tear?  Th}-  mother,  i 
say,  who  would  most  willingly  have  kept  bread  from  her 
own  mouth,  to  make  thee  swim  in  an  ocean  of  delights, 
and  to  abound  with  plenty  of  all  worldly  goods  ?  .  .  . 
Who  will  not  refuse  me  comfort,  when  my  own  children, 
my  very  bowels,  do  their  best  to  forget  me?  What  a 
vexation  is  it  to  mc,  when  my  companions  in  misery  ask 
mc  whether  I  left  no  children  bchiiid  me,  and  why  they 
are  so  hard-hearted  as  to  neglect  me  ?  ....  1  was 
willing  to  forget  my  owui  concerns  t(3  be  careful  of  theirs  ; 
and  those  ungrateful  ones  have  now  buried  me  in  an 
eternnl  oblivion,  and  clearly  left  me  to  shift  for  myself  in 
these  dread  tortures,  without  giving  me  the  least  ease  or 
comfort.  Oh,  what  a  fool  was  I !  had  I  given  to  the  poor 
the  thousandth  part  of  those  goods  which  I  left  these 
miserable  children,  I  had  long  before  this  been  joyfully 
singing  the  praises  of  my  Creator,  in  the  choir  of  Angels  ; 
whereas  now  I  lie  panting  and  groaning  under  excessive 
torments,  and  am  like  still  to  lie,  for  any  relief  that  is  to 
be  looked  for  from  these  undutiful,  ungracious  children 
whom  I  made  my  sole  heirs.  .  .  .  But  am  I  not  all 
this  while  strangely  transported,  miserable  that  I  am, 
thus  to  amuse  myself  with  unprofitable  complaints  against 
my  children  ;  whereas,  indeed,  I  have  but  j,nvd\\  reason  to 
blame  any  but  myself?  since  it  is  I,  and  only  1,  that  am 
the  cause  of  all  this  mischief.  For  did  not  I  know  that 
in  the  grand  business  of  saving  my  soid,  1  was  to  have 
trusted  none  but  myself?  did  I  not  know  that  with  the 
sight  of  their  friends,  at  their  departure,  men  used  to  lose 
all  the  memory  and  friendship  they  had  for  them?  .... 
Did  I  not  know  that  God  Himself  had  foretold  us,  that 
the  only  ready  way  to  build  ourselves  eternal  tabernacles 
in  the  next  world,  is  not  to  give  all  to  our  children,  but 
to  be  liberal  to  the  poor?    ....  I  cannot  deny,  then, 


n 

•1 


f 


•ii  m 


1 1 


f 


I 


84 


rURGATORY. 


but  the  fault  lies  at  my  door,  and  that  I  am  deservedly 
thus  neglected  by  my  children.  .  .  .  The  only  com- 
fort I  have  left  me  in  all  my  afflictions,  is,  that  others  will 
learn  at  my  cost  this  clear  maxim  :  noi  to  leave  to  others 
a  matter  of  such  near  concern  as  the  ease  and  repose  of 
their  own  souls ;  but  to  provide  for  them  carefully  them- 
selves. O  God !  how  dearly  have  I  bought  this  experi- 
ence ;  to  see  my  fault  irreparable,  and  my  misery  without 
redress  !  "     (Pp.  146-149.) 

*  '^  *  *  *  *  * 

One  must  have  a  heart  of  steel,  or  no  heart  at  all,  to 
hear  these  sad  regrets,  and  not  feel  some  tenderness  for 
the  poor  souls,  and  as  great  an  indignation  against  those 
who  are  so  little  concerned  for  the  souls  of  their  parents 
and  other  near  relations.  I  wish,  with  all  my  soul,  that 
all  those  who  shall  light  upon  this  passage,  and  hear  the 
soul  so  bitterlv  deplore  her  misfortune,  may  but  benefit 
themselves  half  as  j-^uch  by  it  as  a  good  prelate  did  when 
the  soul  of  Pope  Benedict  VIII.,  by  God's  permission, 
revealed  unto  him  her  lamentable  state  in  Purgatory.^ 
For  so  the  story  goes,  which  is  not  to  be  questioned  :  This 
Pope  Benedict  appears  to  the  Bishop  of  Capua,  and  con- 
jures him  to  go  to  his  brother.  Pope  John,  who  succeeded 
him  in  the  Chair  of  St.  Peter,  and  to  beseech  him,  for 
God's  sake,  to  give  great  store  of  alms  to  poor  people, 
to  allay  the  fury  of  the  lire  of  Purgatory,  with  which 
he  found  himself  highly  tormented.  He  further  charges 
him  to  let  the  Pope  know  withal,  that  he  did  acknowledge 
liberal  alms  had  already  bc<  n  distributed  for  that  pur- 
pose ;  but  liad  found  no  case  at  all  by  it,  because  all  the 
money  that  had  been  then  bestowed  was  acquired  un- 
justly, and  so  had  no  power  to  prevail  before  the  just 
tribunal  of  (rod  for  the  obtaining  of  the  least  mercy.  The 
good  Bishop,  upon  this,  makes  haste  to  the  Pope,  and 
faithfully  relates  the  whole  conference  that  had  passed 
between  him  and  the  sou^  of  his  predecessor ;  and  with  a 

'  RTroniiis,  ,///.    '024. 


i 


\ 


P' 


I 


if 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


85 


grave  voice  and  lively  accent  enforces  the  necessity  and 
importance  of  the  business;  that,  in  truth,  when  a  soul 
lies  a  burning,  it  is  in  vain  to  dispute  idle  questions;  the 
best  course,  then,  is  to  run  instantly  for  water,  and  to 
throw  it  on  with  both  hands,  calling  for  all  the  help  and 
assistance  we  can,  to  relieve  her ;  and  that  His  Holiness 
should  soon  see  the  truth  of  the  vision,  by  the  wonderful 
efl'ects  which  were  like  to  follow.  All  this  he  delivers  so 
gravely,  and  so  to  the  purpose,  that  the  Pope  resolves 
out  of  hand  to  give  in  charity  vast  sumr,  out  of  his  own 
certain  and  unquestionable  revenue ;  whereby  the  soul  of 
Pope  Benedict  was  not  only  wonderful  W  comforted,  but, 
questionless,  soon  released  of  her  to.  s.     In  conclu- 

sion, the  good  Bishop,  having  well  reflected  with  himself 
in  what  a  miserable  condition  he  had  seen  the  soul  of  a 
Pope  who  had  the  repute  of  a  Saint,  and  was  really  so, 
worked  so  powerfully  with  him,  that,  quitting  his  mitre, 
crosier,  bishopric,  and  all  worldly  greatness,  he  shut 
himself  up  in  a  monastery,  and  there  made  a  holy  end ; 
choosing  rather  to  have  his  Purgatory  in  the  austerity 
of  a  cloister  than  in  the  flames  of  the  Church  suffering. 
(Pp.  150,  151.) 

^■t  vV  %  ¥:  *  vl-  %%- 

I  wish,  again,  they  would  in  this  but  follow  the  example 
of  King  Louis  of  France,  who  was  son  to  Louis  the  Em- 
peror, surnamed  the  Pious.  For  they  tell  us '  that  this  Em- 
peror, after  he  had  been  thirty-three  years  in  Purgatory, 
not  so  much  for  any  personal  crimes  or  misdemeanors  of 
his  <»wn  as  for  permitting  certain  disorders  in  his  em- 
pire, which  he  ought  to  have  prevented,  was  at  length  per- 
mitted to  show  himself  to  King  Louis,  his  son,  and  to  beg 
his  lavorable  assistance ;  and  that  the  king  did  not  only 
most  readily  grant  him  his  request,  procuring  Masses  to 
be  said  in  all  the  monasteries  of  his  realm  for  the  soul  of 
his  deceased  father,  but  drew  thence  many  good  reflec- 
tions and  profitable  instructions,  which  served  him  all  his 

'  Baronius,  An.   874, 


lil 


86 


PURGATORY. 


lifc-timc  after.  Do  you  the  same  ;  and  believe  It,  though 
Purgatory  fire  is  a  kind  of  baptism,  and  is  so  styled  by 
some  of  the  holy  Fathers,  because  it  cleanses  a  soul  from 
all  the  dross  of  sin,  and  makes  it  worthy  to  see  (jod,  yet 
is  it  your  sweetest  course,  here  to  ba])tize  yourself  frc- 
.^uently  in  the  tears  of  contrition,  which  have  a  miglity 
power  to  cleanse  away  all  the  blemishes  of  sin ;  and  so 
prevent  in  your  own  person,  and  extinguish  in  others, 
those  l)aj)tismal  flames  of  Purgatory  fire,  which  are  so 

dreadful.     (Pp.  151,  152.) 

%  -::•  V:  *  %  *  ¥t 

What  shall  I  say  of  those  other  nations,  whose  natural 
piety  led  them  to  place  burning  lamps  at  the  sepulchres 
of  the  dead,  and  strew  them  over  with  sweet  flowers  and 
odoriferous  perfumes.^  Do  they  not  put  Christians  in 
mind  vo  remember  the  dead,  and  to  cast  after  them  the 
sweet  incense  of  their  devout  sighs  and  prayers,  and  the 
perfumes  of  their  alms-deeds,  and  other  good  works? 

It  was  very  usual  with  the  old  Romans  to  shed  whole 
floods  of  tears,  to  reserve  them  in  phial-glasses,  and  to 
bury  them  with  the  urns,  in  which  the  ashes  of  their 
dead  friends  were  carefully  laid  up  ;  and  by  them  to  set 
lamps,  so  artificially  composed  as  to  burn  without  end. 
By  which  symbols  they  would  give  us  to  understand, 
that  neither  their  love  nor  their  grief  should  ever  die ; 
but  that  they  would  always  be  sure  to  have  tears  in  their 
eyes,  love  in  their  hearts,  and  a  constant  memory  in  their 
souls  for  their  deceased  friends.     .     .     . 

They  liad  another  custom,  not  only  in  Rome,  but  else- 
where, to  walk  about  tlie  burning  pile  where  the  corpse 
lay,  and,  with  their  mournful  lamentations,  tr  keep  time 
with  the  doleful  sound  of  their  trumpets  ;  and  still,  every 
turn,  to  cast  into  the  firt;  some  precious  pledge  of  their 
friendship.  The  women  themselves  would  not  stick  to 
throw  in  their  rings,  bracelets,  and  other  costly  attires, 
nay,  their  very  hair  also,  the  chief  ornament  of  their  sex  ; 

'  Herod,  lib.  2. 


i 


'Epist. 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


87 


and  they  would  have  been  sometimes  wilHng  to  have 
thrown  in  both  their  eyes,  and  their  hearts  too.  Nor 
were  there  some  uantin*^,  that  in  earnest  tlirew  them- 
selves into  the  lire,  to  be  eonsnmed  with  their  dear 
spouses  ;  so  that  it  was  found  necessary  to  make  a  severe 
law  against  it ;  such  was  the  tenderness  that  they  had  for 
their  deceased  friends,  such  was  the  excess  of  a  mere 
natural  affection.  Now,  our  love  is  infused  iVom  Heaven  ; 
it  is  supernatural,  and  consequently  ought  to  be  more 
active  and  powerful  to  stir  up  our  compassion  for  the 
souls  departed  ;  and  yet  we  see  the  coldness  of  Christians 
in  this  particular ;  how  few  there  are  who  make  it  their 
business  to  help  poor  souls  out  of  their  tormenting  flames. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  make  laws  to  hinder  any  excess  in 
this  article  ;  it  were  rather  to  be  wished  that  a  law  were 
provided  to  punish  all  such  ungrateful  persons  as  forgot 
the  duty  they  owe  to  their  dead  parents,  and  all  the  obli- 
gations they  have  to  the  rest  of  their  friends.  (Pp.  156- 
158.) 

-jt  ■»  *  «  -jt  -x-  * 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  observe  the  constant  devotion  of  the 
Church  of  Christ  in  all  ages,  to  pray  for  the  dead.  And 
first,  to  take  my  rise  from  the  Apostles'  time,  there  are 
many  learned  interpreters,  who  hold  that  baptism  for  the 
dead,  of  which  the  Apostle  speaks, '  to  be  meant  only  of 
the  much  fasting,  prayer,  alms-dends,  and  other  voluntary 
afflictions,  which  the  first  Christians  undertook  for  the 
relief  of  their  deceased  friends.  But  I  need  not  fetch  in 
obscure  places  tc)  prove  so  clear  an  Apostolical  and  early 
custom  in  God's  Church. 

You  may  see  a  set  form  of  prnyer  for  the  dead  pre- 
scribed in  all  the  ancient  liturgies  of  the  Apostles."  Be- 
sides, St.  Clement''  tells  us,  it  was  one  of  the  chief  heads 
of  St.  Peter's  sermons,  to  be  daily  inculcating  to  the  peo- 
ple this  devotion  of  praying  for  the  dead  ;  and  wSt.  Denis  ' 
sets  down  at  large  the  solemn  ceremonies  and  prayers, 

'  Cor.  XV.  29.       ^  Liturgia  utrinquc,  S.  Jacoln,  S.  Math.,  S.  Marci,  S.  Clem. 
^Epist.  I.  ■»  S.  Dion.  Ecdcs.  Ilur.  C.  7. 


i  I 


88 


PURGATORY. 


I' 


which  were  then  used  at  funerals  ;  and  receives  them  no 
otherwise  than  as  Apostolical  traditions,  grounded  u])on 
the  Word  of  God.  And  certainly,  it  would  have  done 
you  good  to  have  seen  with  what  gravity  and  devotion 
that  venerable  prelate  performed  the  divine  ofhce  and 
prayer  for  the  dead,  and  what  an  ocean  of  tears  he  drew 
from  the  eyes  of  all  that  were  present. 

Let  TertuUian '  speak  for  the  next  age.  He  tells  us  how 
carefully  devout  people  in  his  time  kept  the  anniversaries 
of  the  dead,  and  made  their  constant  oblations  for  the 
sweet  rest  of  their  souls.  "  Here  it  is,"  says  this  grave 
author,  *'  that  the  widow  makes  it  appear  whether  or  no 
she  had  any  true  love  for  her  husband ;  if  she  continue 
yearly  to  do  her  best  for  the  comfort  of  his  soul."  .  .  . 
Let  your  first  care  be,  to  ransom  him  out  of  Purgatory, 
and  when  you  have  once  placed  him  in  the  empyrean 
heaven,  he  will  be  sure  to  take  care  for  you  and  yours. 
I  know  your  excuse  is,  that  having  procured  for  him  the 
accustomed  services  of  the  Church,  you  need  do  no  more 
for  him  ;  for  you  verily  believe  he  is  already  in  a  blessed 
state.  But  this  is  rather  a  poor  shift  to  excuse  your  own 
sloth  and  laziness,  than  that  you  believe  it  to  be  so  in 
good  earnest.  For  there  is  no  man,  says  ()  ugen,  but  the 
Son  of  God,  can  guess  how  long,  or  how  many  ages,  a 
soul  may  stand  in  need  of  the  purgation  of  fire.  Mark 
the  word  ages ;  he  seems  to  believe  that  a  soul  may,  for 
whole  ages — that  is,  for  so  many  hundred  years— be  con- 
fined to  this  fiery  lake,  if  she  be  wholly  left  to  herself  and 
her  own  sufferings. 

It  was  not  without  confidence,  says  Eusebius,  of  reap- 
ing more  fruit  from  the  prayers  of  the  faithful,  that  the 
honor  of  our  nation,  and  the  first  Christian  Emperor, 
Constantine  the  Great,  took  such  care  to  be  buried  in  the 
Church  of  the  Apostles,  whither  all  sorts  of  devout  peo- 
ple resorting  to  perform  their  devotions  to  God  and  His 
Saints,  would  be  sure  to  remember  so  good  an  emperor. 

'Tertull.  De  cor.  mil.  c.  3;   De  moiwgant,  c.  10. 


Nor 

the  s 

ers  \\ 

St. 

press 

in   1^ 

whici 

tlie  sv 

ing  in 

for  jo 

earth  ; 

ceedin 

We 

crown: 

dead  ; 

Avho  w 

offer  H 

Sacrific 

reconci 

St.  I 

damnal 

to  pray 

them, 

St.  A 
Theodo 
fession 
till  he  ]] 
to  the 
called  b 
ing.     H 
peror  V, 
brother 
tears,   p 
never  ^'1 
Will 


a 


'  St.  Aui 
elsewhere  i 
of  liis  iiioti 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


89 


Nor  did  he  fail  of  his  expectation;  for  it  is  incredible,  as 
the  same  author  observes,  what  a  world  of  sighs  and  i)ray- 
ers  were  oflered  up  for  him  upon  tliis  occasion. 

St.  Athanasius'  brings  an  elegant  comparison  to  ex- 
press the  incomparable  benefit  which  accrues  to  the  souls 
in  Purgatory  by  our  ])rayers.  As  the  wine,  says  he, 
which  is  locked  up  in  the  cellar,  yet  is  so  recreated  with 
the  sweet  odor  of  the  flourishing  vines  which  are  grow- 
ing in  the  fields,  as  to  ilower  afresh,  and  leap,  as  it  were, 
for  joy,  so  the  souls  that  are  shut  up  in  the  centre  of  the 
earth  feel  the  sweet  incense  of  our  prayers,  and  are  ex- 
ceedingly comforted  and  refreshed  by  it. 

We  do  not  busy  ourselves,  says  St.  Cyril,  with  i)lacing 
crowns  or  strewing  ilowers  at  the  sepulchres  of  the 
dead  ;  but  we  lay  hold  on  Christ,  the  very  Son  of  Gcxl, 
who  was  sacrificed  upon  the  Cross  ft)r  our  sins  :  and  wc 
offer  Him  up  again  to  His  Eternal  Father  in  the  dread 
Sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  as  the  most  efficacious  means  to 
reconcile  Him,  not  only  to  ourselves,  but  to  them  also. 

St.  Epiphanius  stuck  not  to  condemn  Arius  for  this 
damnable  heresy  amongst  others,  that  he  held  it  in  vain 
to  pray  for  the  dead  :  as  if  our  prayers  could  not  avail 
them, 

St.  Ambrose  prayed  heartily  for  the  good  Emperor 
Theodosius  as  soon  as  he  was  dead,  and  made  open  pro- 
fession that  he  would  never  give  over  praying  for  him 
till  he  had,  by  his  prayers  and  tears,  conveyed  him  safe 
to  the  holy  mountain  of  Our  Lord,  whither  he  was 
called  by  his  merits,  and  where  there  is  true  life  everlast- 
ing. He  had  the  same  kindness  for  the  soul  of  the  Em- 
peror Valentinian,  the  same  for  Gratian,  the  same  for  his 
brother  Satyrus  and  others.  He  promised  them  Masses, 
tears,  prayers,  and  that  he  would  never  forget  them, 
never  give  over  doing  charitable  offices  for  them.    .    .    . 

'*  Will  you  honor  your  dead?"  says  St.  John  Chr3^sos- 

'  St.  Augustine's  views  on  this  subject  may  be  seen  from  the  extract 
elsewhere  given,  from  his  "  Confessions,"  on  the  occasion  of  the  death 
of  his  mother,  St.  Monica. 


1 


i      ! 


>      !  i 


I    1     * 


90 


PURGATORY. 


torn  ;  "  do  not  sprnd  yourselves  in  unprofitable  lamen- 
tations ;  choose  rather  to  sini^  psahns,  to  give  ahiis,  and 
to  lead  holy  lives.  Do  tor  them  that  whicii  tiiey  would 
willins^ly  do  lor  themselves,  were  they  to  return  a<^ain 
into  the  world,  and  (iod  will  accept  it  at  your  hands,  as 
it'  it  came  iVom  them."    (i'p.  162-166.) 

St.  i'aulinus,  that  charitable  prelate  who  sold  himself 
to  redeem  others,  could  not  but  have  a  <^reat  i)roi)()rti()n 
of  charity  tor  captive  souls  in  the  other  world.  No;  he 
was  not  only  ready  to  become  a  slave  himself  to  ])urchasc 
their  treedom,  but  he  became  an  earnest  solicitor  to 
others  in  their  behalf;  for,  in  a  letter  to  Delphinus, 
alludini^  to  the  story  of  Lazarus,  he  beseeches  him  to 
have  at  least  so  much  compassion  as  to  convey,  now  and 
then,  a  drop  of  water  wherewith  to  cool  the  tong^ues  of 
poor  souls  that  lie  burning  in  the  Church  which  is  all 
a-hre. 

I  am  astonished  when  I  call  to  mind  the  sad  regrets  of 
the  people  of  Africa  w^hen  they  saw  some  of  their  priests 
dragged  away  to  martyrdom.  The  author  says  they 
flocked  about  them  in  great  numbers  and  cried  out : 
"Alas!  if  you  leave  us  so,  what  will  become  of  us? 
Who  must  give  us  absolution  for  our  sins  ?  Who  must 
bury  us  with  the  wonted  ceremonies  of  the  Church  when 
wc  are  dead  ?  and  who  will  take  care  to  pray  for  our 
souls?"  Such  a  general  belief  they  had  in  those  days, 
that  nothing  is  more  to  be  desired  in  this  world  than  to 
leave  those  behind  us  who  will  do  their  best  to  help  us 
out  of  our  torments.     (I^p.  167-8.) 

Almighty  God  has  often  miraculousl}-  made  it  appear 
how  well  He  is  pleased  to  be  importuned  by  us  in  the 
souls*  behalf,  and  what  comfort  they  receive  by  our 
prayers.  St.  John  Climacus  writes/  that  while  the  monks 
were  at  service,  praying  for  their  good  father,  Mennas, 
the  third  day  after  his  departure,  they  felt  a  marvellous 
sweet  smell  to  rise  out  of  his  grave,  which  they  took  for 

'  In  4,  gradu  scalic. 


DOCTRINAT,  AND   DK VOTIONAI- 


91 


a  j^oocl  omen  that  liis  sweet  soul,  alter  three  days'  purjj^a- 
tion,  had  taken  her  Hij^lit  into  heaven.  For  what  else  eould 
be  meant  by  that  sweet  perfume  but  tlie  odi^r  ot  his  liolv 
and  innocent  conversation,  or  the  incense  oi  their  sacri- 
fices and  prayers,  or  the  primitial  fruits  of  his  happy  soul, 
which  was  now  llown  up  to  the  holy  mountain  of  eternal 
glory,  there  enjoyin*^  the  odoriferous  and  never-fading 
delii^hts  of  Paradise? 

Not  unlike  unto  this  is  that  story  which  the  great  St. 
Gregory  relates  of  one  Justus,  a  monk.'  He  had  given 
him  up  at  first  for  a  lost  creature  ;  l)ut,  upon  second 
thoughts,  having  ordered  Mass  to  be  said  for  him  for 
thirty  days  together,  the  last  day  he  ai)peared  to  his 
brother  and  assured  him  of  the  happy  exchange  he  was 
now  going  to  make  of  his  torments  for  the  joys  of  heaven. 

Pope  Symmachus  and  his  Council-  had  reason  to 
thunder  out  anathemas  against  those  sacrilegious  jicrsons 
who  were  so  frontless  as  to  turn  pious  legacies  into  pro- 
fane uses,  to  the  great  prejudice  of  the  souls  for  whose 
repose  they  were  i)articularly  deputed  by  the  founders. 
And,  certainly,  it  is  a  much  fouler  crime  to  defraud  souls 
of  their  due  relief  than  to  disturb  dead  men's  ashes  and  to 
plunder  their  graves.     (Pp.  168-9.) 

St.  Isidore  delivers  it  as  an  apostolic  tradition  and 
general  practice  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  his  time,  to 
offer  up  sacrifices  and  prayers,  and  to  flistribute  alms  for 
the  dead  ;  and  this,  not  for  any  increase  of  their  merit, 
but  either  to  mitigate  their  pains  or  to  shorten  the  time 
of  their  durance. 

Venerable  Bedc  is  a  sure  witness  for  the  fr)llowing 
century ;  whose  learned  works  arc  full  of  wonderful 
stories,  which  he  brings  in  confirmtition  of  this  Catholic 
doctrine  and  practice. 

vSt.  John  Damascene  made  an  elegant  oration  on  pur- 
pose to  stir  up  this  devotion ;  where,  amongst  other 
things,  he  says  it  is  impossible  to  number  up  all  the 
stories  in  this  kind  which  bear  witness  that  the  souls  de- 

'  Dial.  c.  55,  lib.  4.  *  6  Synod.,  Rom. 


f 

t 

,e 

ic 
Ht 

)e, 
Ic, 
ur 

iUS 

am 


h 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


£   IS    112.0 


U   116 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WCaSTER,  N.Y.  M580 

(716)  872-4503 


V 


iV 


c\ 


\ 


% 


^\  W^ 


r^ 


.^.s 


92 


PURGATORY. 


parted  arc  relieved  by  our  prayers ;  and  that,  otherwise, 
God  would  not  have  appointed  a  commemoration  of  the 
dead  to  be  daily  made  in  the  unbloody  Sacrifice  of  the 
Mass,  nor  would  the  Church  have  so  religiously  ob- 
served anniversaries  and  other  days  set  apart  for  the 
service  of  the  dead. 

Were  it  but  a  dog,  says  Simon  IVIetaphrastes,  that  by 
chance  were  fallen  into  the  fire,  we  should  have  so  much 
compassion  for  him  as  to  help  him  out ;  and  what  shall 
we  do  for  souls  who  are  fallen  into  Purgatory  fire?  I  say, 
souls  of  our  parents  and  dearest  friends ;  souls  that  are 
predestinate  to  eternal  glory,  and  extremely  precious  in 
the  sight  of  God  ?    And  what  did  not  the  Saints  of  God's 
Church  for  them  in  those  days  ?   Some  armed  themselves 
from  head   to  foot  in  coarse  hair-cloth  ;  others  tore  off 
their  flesh  with  chains  and  rude  disciplines ;  some,  again, 
pined  themselves  with  rigorous  fasts ;   others   dissolved 
themselves  into  tears ;  some  passed  whole  nights  in  con- 
templation ;  others  gave  liberal  alms,  or  procured  great 
store  of  Masses;  in  fine,  they  did  what  they  were  able, 
and  were  not  well  pleased  that  they  were  able  to  do  no 
more,  to  relieve  the  poor  souls  in  Purgatory.     Amongst 
others,  Queen  Melchtild  ^  is  reported  to  have  purchased 
immortal  fame  for  her  discreet  behavior  at  the  death  of 
the  king,  her  husband  ;  for  whose  soul  she  caused  a  world 
of  Masses  to  be  said,  and  a  world  of  alms  to  be  distrib- 
uted, in  lieu  of  other  idle  expenses  and  fruitless  lamen- 
tations. 

There  is  one  in  the  world,  to  whom  I  bear  an  immortal 
envy,  and  such  an  envy  as  I  never  mean  to  repent  of.  It 
is  the  holy  Abbot  Odilo,  who  was  the  author  of  an  inven- 
tion which  I  would  wiHingly  have  found  out,  though  with 
the  loss  of  my  very  heart's  blood. 

Reader,  take  the  story  as  it  passed,  thus:^  A  devout 
religious  man,  in  his  return  from  Jerusalem,  meets  with 
a  holy  hermit  in  Sicily ;  he  assures  him  that  he  often 
heard  the  devils  complain  that  souls  were  so  soon  dis- 

'  Luitprand,  c.  4,  c.  7.  ^  Sigcb.  in  Chion.  An.  gg8. 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


93 


charged  of  their  torments  by  the  devout  prayers  of  tlie 
monks  of  Cluny,  who  never  ceased  to  pour  out  their 
prayers  for  them.  This  the  good  man  carries  to  Odilo, 
then  Abb(jt  of  Cluny ;  he  praises  God  for  His  great 
mercy  in  vouchsafing  to  hear  the  innocent  prayers  of  his 
monks ;  and  presently  takes  occasion  to  command  all  the 
monasteries  of  his  Order,  to  keep  yearly  the  commemo- 
ration of  All  Souls,  next  after  the  feast  of  All  Saints,  a 
custom  which,  by  degrees,  grew  into  such  credit,  that  the 
Catholic  Church  thought  fit  to  establish  it  all  over  the 
Christian  world ;  to  the  incredible  benefit  of  poor  souls, 
and  singular  increase  of  God's  glory.  For  who  can  sum 
up  the  infinite  number  of  souls  who  have  been  freed  out 
of  Purgatory  by  this  invention  ?  or  wdio  can  express  the 
glory  wdiich  accrued  to  this  good  Abbot,  who  thus  for- 
tunately made  himself  procurator-general  of  the  suffering 
Church,  and  furnished  her  people  with  such  a  considera- 
ble supply  of  necessary  relief,  to  alleviate  the  insupporta- 
ble burthen  of  their  sufferings  ? 

St.  Bernard  would  triumph  when  he  had  to  deal  with 
heretics  that  denied  this  privilege  of  communicating  our 
suffrages  and  prayers  to  the  souls  in  Purgatory.  And 
with  what  fervor  he  would  apply  himself  to  this  charita- 
ble employment  of  relieving  poor  souls,  may  appear  by 
the  care  he  took  for  good  Humbertus,  though  he  knew 
him  to  have  lived  and  died  in  his  monastery  so  like  a 
Saint,  that  he  could  scarce  find  out  the  fault  in  him  which 
might  deserve  the  least  punishment  in  the  other  world ; 
unless  it  were  to  have  been  too  rigorous  to  himself,  and 
too  careless  of  his  health ;  which  in  a  less  spiritual  eye 
than  that  of  St.  Bernard,  might  have  passed  for  a  great 
virtue.  But  it  is  worth  your  hearing,  that  which  he  re- 
lates of  blessed  St.  IMalachy,  who  died  in  his  very  bosom. 
This  holy  Bishop,  as  he  lay  asleep,  hears  a  sister  of  his, 
lately  dead,  making  lamentable  moan,  that  for  thirty  days 
together  she  had  not  eaten  so  much  as  a  bit  of  bread.  He 
starts  up  out  of  his  sleep  ;  and,  taking  it  to  be  more  than 
a  dream,  he  concludes  the  meaning  of  the  vision  was  to 


^ 


\' 


n 


'••i 


94 


PURGATORY. 


In 


i! 

i 

['. 
ti 

f    i 

lii 


•r 


tell  him,  thnt  just  thirty  clays  were  now  past  since  he  had 
said  Mass  for  her ;  as  probably  believing  she  was  already 
where  she  had  no  need  of  his  prayers.  .  .  Howsoever, 
this  worthy  prelate  so  ])lied  his  prayers  after  this,  that  he 
soon  sent  his  sister  out  of  Purgatory  ;  and  it  pleased  God 
to  let  him  see,  by  the  daily  change  of  her  habit,  how  his 
prayers  had  purged  her  by  degrees,  and  made  her  fit 
company  for  the  Angels  and  Saints  in  heaven.  For,  the 
hrst  day,  she  was  covered  all  over  with  black  cypress ; 
the  next,  she  appeared  in  a  mantle  something  whitish,  but 
a  dusky  color ;  but  the  third  day,  she  was  seen  all  clad  in 
white,  which  is  the  proper  livery  of  the  Saints.     .     .     . 

This  for  St.  Bernard.  But  I  cannot  let  pass  in  silence 
one  very  remarkable  passage,  which  happened  to  these 
two  great  servants  of  God.  St.  ]Malachy  had  passion- 
ately desired  to  die  at  Clarvallis,'  in  the  hands  of  the 
devout  St.  Bernard ;  and  this,  on  the  day  immediately 
before  All  Souls'  Day ;  and  it  pleased  God  to  grant  him 
his  request.  It  fell  out,  then,  that  while  St.  Bernard  was 
saying  Mass  for  him,  in  the  middle  of  Mass  it  was  re- 
vealed to  him  that  St.  Malachy  was  already  glorious  in 
heaven  ;  whether  he  had  gone  straight  out  of  this  world, 
or  whether  that  part  of  St.  Bernard's  Mass  had  freed  him 
out  of  Purgatory,  is  uncertain  ;  but  St.  Bernard,  here- 
upon, changed  his  note  ;  for,  having  begun  with  a  Re- 
quiem, he  Avent  on  with  the  Mass  of  a  bishop  and  con- 
fessor, to  the  great  astonishment  of  all  the  standers-by. 

St.  Thomas  of  Aquin,  that  great  champion  of  Purgatory, 
gave  God  particular  thanks  at  his  death,  for  not  only  de- 
livering a  soul  out  of  Purgatory,  at  the  instance  of  his 
prayers,  but  also  permitting  the  same  soul  to  be  the  mes- 
senger of  so  good  news.     (Pp.  169-174.) 

•»  ^A  *  *  ■%■  -/:  * 

And  now,  we  are  come  down  to  the  fifteenth  age,  where 
the  Fathers  of  the  Council  of  Florence,  both  Greeks  and 
Latins,  with  one  consent,  declare  the  same  faith  and  con- 
stant practice  of  the  Church,  thus  handed  down  to  them 

'  Clairvaux. 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


95 


from  age  to  age,  since  Christ  and  His  Apostles'  time,  as 
we  have  seen :  viz.,  that  the  souls  in  Purgatory  arc  not 
only  relieved,  but  translated  into  heaven,  by  the  prayers, 
sacrifices,  alms,  and  other  charitable  works,  which  are 
offered  up  for  them  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church.  Nor  did  their  posterity  degenerate,  or  vary 
the  least,  from  this  received  doctrine,  until  Luther's  time; 
when  the  holy  Council  of  Trent  thought  fit  again  to  lay 
down  the  sound  doctrine  of  the  Church,  in  opposition  to 
all  our  late  sectaries.  And  I  wish  all  Catholics  were  but 
as  forward  to  lend  their  helping  hands  to  lift  souls  out  of 
Purgatory,  as  they  are  to  believe  they  have  the  power  to 
do  it ;  and  that  we  had  not  often  more  reason  than  the 
Roman  Emperor  to  pronounce  the  day  lost ;  since  we  let 
so  many  days  pass  over  our  heads,  and  so  many  fair  occa- 
sions slip  out  of  our  hands,  without  easing,  or  releasing, 
any  souls  out  of  Purgatory,  when  we  might  do  it  with  so 
much  ease.    (P.  175.) 


11 


96 


rURGATORV. 


ON    DEVOTION    TO    THE    HOLY    SOULS. 


FATHER    FABER. 


.  .  .  Although  we  are  mercifully  freed  from  the 
necessity  of  descending  into  hell  to  seek  and  promote  the 
interests  of  Jesus,  it  is  far  from  being  so  with  Purgatory. 
If  heaven  and  earth  are  full  of  the  glory  of  God,  so  also 
is  that  most  melancholy,  yet  most  interesting  land,  where 
the  prisoners  of  hope  are  detained  by  their  ^Saviour's 
loving  justice,  from  the  Beatific  Vision;  and  if  we  can. 
advance  the  interests  of  Jesus  on  earth  and  in  heaven,  I 
may  almost  venture  to  say  that  we  can  do  still  more  in 
Purgatory.  And  what  I  am  endeavoring  to  show  you  in 
this  treatise  is,  how  you  may  help  God  by  prayer,  and  the 
practices  of  devotion,  whatever  your  occupation  and 
calling  may  be ;  and  all  these  practices  apply  especially 
to  Purgatory.  For  although  some  theologians  say  that 
in  spite  of  the  Holy  Souls  placing  no  obstacle  in  the  way, 
still  the  effect  of  prayer  for  them  is  not  infallible ;  never- 
theless, it  is  much  more  certain  than  the  effect  of  prayer 
for  the  conversion  of  sinners  upon  earth,  where  it  is  so 
often  frustrated  by  their  perversity  and  evil  dispositions. 
Anyhow,  what  I  have  wanted  to  show  has  been  this:  that 
each  of  us,  without  aiming  beyond  our  grace,  without 
austerities  for  which  wc  have  not  courage,  without  super- 
natural gifts  to  which  we  lay  no  claim,  may,  by  simple 
affectionatencss  and  the  practices  of  sound  Catholic  devo- 
tion, do  great  things,  things  so  great  that  they  seem  in- 
credible, for  the  glory  of  God,  the  interests  of  Jesus,  and 
the  good  of  souls.  I  should,  therefore,  be  leaving  my 
subject  very  incomplete  if  I  did  not  consider  at  some 
length  devotion  to  the  Holy  Souls  in  Purgatory ;  and  I 
will  treat,  not  so  much  of  particular  practices  of  it,  which 
are  to  be  found  in  the  ordinary  manuals,  as  of  tlie  spirit 
of  the  devotion  itself. 


* 


* 


* 


* 


a 


1 
sii 


o 

O' 

oi 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


97 


#Cii 


.  .  .  .  By  the  doctrine  of  the  Communion  oi  Saints 
and  of  the  unity  of  Christ's  mystical  body,  wc  have  most 
intimate  relations  both  of  duty  and  affection  with  the 
Cliurch  Triumphant  and  Suffering ;  and  Catholic  devo- 
tion furnishes  us  with  many  appointed  and  approved  ways 
of  discharging  these  duties  toward  them.  .  .  .  For 
the  present  it  is  enough  to  say  that  God  has  given  us  such 
power  over  the  dead  that  they  seem,  as  I  have  said  be- 
fore, to  depend  almost  more  on  earth  than  on  heaven ; 
and  surely  that  He  has  given  us  this  power,  and  super- 
natural methods  of  exercising  it,  is  not  the  least  touching 
proof  that  His  Blessed  jNIajesty  has  contrived  all  things 
for  love.  Can  we  not  conceive  the  joy  of  the  Blessed  in 
Heaven,  looking  down  from  the  bosom  of  God  and  the 
calmness  of  their  eternal  repose  upon  this  scene  of  dim- 
ness, disquietude,  doubt  and  fear,  and  rejoicing  in  the 
plenitude  of  their  charity,  in  their  vast  power  with  the 
Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus,  to  obtain  grace  and  blessing  day 
and  night  for  the  poor  dwellers  upon  earth?  It  does  not 
distract  them  from  God,  it  does  not  interfere  with  the 
Vision,  or  make  it  waver  and  grow  misty ;  it  does  not 
trouble  their  glory  or  their  peace.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
with  them  as  with  our  Guardian  Angels — the  affectionate 
ministries  of  their  charity  increase  their  own  accidental 
glory.  The  same  joy  in  its  measure  may  be  ours  even 
upon  earth.  If  we  are  fully  possessed  with  this  Catholic 
devotion  for  the  Holy  Souls,  we  shall  ne\^er  be  without 
the  grateful  consciousness  of  the  immense  powers  which 
Jesus  has  given  us  on  their  behalf.  We  are  never  so  like 
Him,  or  so  nearly  imitate  His  tender  offices,  as  when  w^e 
are  devoutly  exercising  these  powers.  .  .  .  Oh  !  what 
thoughts,  what  feelings,  what  love  should  be  ours,  as  we, 
like  choirs  of  terrestrial  angels,  gaze  down  on  the  wide, 
silent,  sinless  kingdom  of  sufl'ering,  and  then  with  our 
own  venturous  touch  wave  the  sceptred  hand  of  Jesus 
over  its  broad  regions  all  richly  dropping  with  the  balsam 
of  His  saving  Blood  ! 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


!  • 


i    A 


ti 


u 


98 


rUKGATORY. 


Oh  !  how  solemn  and  subduing'  is  the  thought  of  that 
holy  kingdom,  that  realm  of  pain!     There  is  no  cry,  no 
murmur  ;  all  is  silent,  silent  as  Jesus  before  His  enemies. 
We  shall  never  know  how  we  really  love  Mary  till  wc 
look  up  to  her  out  of  those  deeps,  those  vales  of  dread 
mysterious  fire.     O    beautiful  region   of   the  Church  of 
God.     O   lovely   troop  of  the   flock  of  jNlary !     What  a 
scene  is  presented  to  our  eyes  when  we  gaze  upon  that 
consecrated  empire  of  sinlessness  and  yet  of  keenest  suf- 
fering !     There  is  the  beauty  of  those  immaculate  souls, 
and  then  the  loveliness,  yea,  the  worshipfulness  of  their 
patience,  the  majesty  of  their  gifts,  the  dignity  of  their 
solemn   and    chaste   sufferings,    the    eloquence    of    their 
silence;  the  moonlight  of  Mary's  throne  lighting  up  their 
land   of  pain  and   unspecchful    expectation ;    the    silver- 
winged  angels  voyaging  through  the  deeps  of  that  myste- 
rious realm ;    and  above  all,  that  unseen  Face  of  Jesus 
which  is  so  well  remembered  that  it  seems  to  be  almost 
seen !     Oh !  what  a  sinless  purity  of  worship  is  here  in 
this   liturgy   of  hallowed   pain !      O    world  !      O    weary, 
clamorous,  sinful  world !     Who  would  not  break  away  if 
he  could,  like  an  uncaged  dove,  from  thy  perilous  toils 
and   unsafe  pilgrimage,  and  fly   with   joy  to  the  lowest 
place  in  that  most  pure,  most  safe,  most  holy  land  of  suf- 
fering and  of  sinless  love  ! 

•>  -.^  -X-  *  *  *  'Vf 

But  some  persons  turn  in  anger  from  the  thought  of 
Purgatory,  as  if  it  were  not  to  be  endured,  that  after 
trying  all  our  lives  long  to  serve  God,  we  should  accom- 
plish the  tremendous  feat  of  a  good  death,  only  to  pass 
from  the  agonies  of  the  death-bed  into  fire — long,  keen, 
searching,  triumpiiant,  incomparable  fire.  Alas !  my  dear 
friends ;  your  anger  will  not  help  you  nor  alter  facts.  But 
have  you  thought  sufficiently  about  God  ?  Have  you 
tried  to  realize  His  holiness  and  purity  in  assiduous  medi- 
tation ?  Is  there  a  real  divorce  between  you  and  the 
world,  which  you  know  is  God's  enemy?  Do  you  take 
God's  side?     Have  you  wedded  His  interests ?    Do  you 


«^ 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL 


99 


«^ 


lonf^  for  His  glory  ?  Have  you  put  sin  alongside  of  our 
dear  Saviour's  Passion,  and  measured  tlic  one  by  the 
Other?  Oh!  if  you  had,  Purgatory  woukl  but  seem  to 
you  the  last,  unexpeeted,  and  inexpressibly  tender  inven- 
tion of  an  obstinate  l(jve,  whieh  was  mereifully  determined 
to  save  you  in  spite  of  yourself!  It  would  be  a  jjerpctual 
wonder  to  you,  a  joyous  wonder,  fresh  every  morning — 
a  wonder  that  would  be  meat  and  drink  to  your  soul; 
tiiat  you,  being  what  you  are,  what  you  know  yourself  to 
be,  what  you  may  conceive  God  knows  you  to  be,  should 
be  saved  eternally  !  Remember  what  the  suffering  soul 
said  so  simply,  yet  with  such  force,  to  Sister  Francesca : 
"  Ah  !  those  on  that  side  the  grave  little  reckon  how  dearly 
they  will  pay  on  this  side  for  tlic  lives  they  live  !  "  To 
be  angry  because  you  are  UAd  you  will  go  t(3  Purgatory  ! 
Silly,  silly  people  !  Most  likely  it  is  a  great  false  llattcry, 
and  that  you  will  never  be  good  enough  to  go  there  at  all. 
Why,  positively,  you  do  not  recognize  your  own  good 
fortune  when  you  arc  told  of  it.  And  none  but  the 
humble  go  there.  I  remember  Maria  Crocifissa  was  told 
that  although  many  of  the  Saints  while  on  earth  loved 
God  more  than  some  do  even  in  heaven,  yet  that  the 
greatest  saint  on  earth  was  not  so  humble  as  are  the  souls 
in  Purgatory.  I  do  not  think  I  ever  read  anything  in  the 
lives  of  the  Saints  which  struck  me  so  much  as  that.  . 

But  we  not  only  learn  lessons  for  our  own  good,  i^  it 
for  the  good  of  the  Holy  Souls.  We  see  that  our  chari- 
table attentions  toward  them  must  be  far  more  vigorous 
and  persevering  than  they  have  been ;  for  that  men  go 
to  Purgatory  for  very  little  matters,  and  remain  there  an 
unexpectedly  long  time.  But  their  most  touching  appeal 
to  us  lies  in  their  helplessness  ;  and  our  dear  Lord,  with 
His  usual  loving  arrangement,  has  made  the  extent  of 
our  power  to  help  them  more  than  commensurate  with 
their  inability  to  help  themselves.  ...  St.  Thomas 
has  taught  us  that  prayer  for  the  dead  is  more  readily 
accepted  with  God  than  prayer  for  the  living.  Wc  can 
offer  and   apply   for  them   all   the  satisfactions   of  our 


lOO 


rURGATOKY. 


J  ' 


Blessed  Lord.  ^Ve  can  do  vicarious  penance  for  them. 
We  can  give  to  them  all  the  satisfaction  of  our  ordinary 
actions,  and  of  our  sufferings.  We  can  make  over  to 
them  by  way  of  suffrage,  the  indulgences  we  gain,  pro- 
vided the  Church  has  made  them  applicable  to  the  dead. 
We  can  limit  and  direct  upon  them,  or  any  one  of  them, 
the  intention  of  the  Adorable  Sacrifice.  The  Church, 
which  has  no  jurisdiction  over  them,  can  yet  make  in- 
dulgences applicable  or  inapplicable  to  them  by  way  of 
suffrage  ;  and  by  means  of  liturgy,  commemoration,  in- 
cense, holy  water,  and  the  like,  can  reach  efficaciously  to 
them,  and  most  of  all  by  her  device  of  privileged  altars. 
.  .  .  .  All  that  I  have  said  hitherto  has  been,  in- 
directly, at  least,  a  plea  for  this  devotion ;  but  I  must 
come  now  to  a  more  direct  recommendation  of  it. 

>/:  'A-  %  %  •".<•  ^-  'A- 

It  is  not  saying  too  much  to  call  devotion  to  the  Holy 
Souls,  a  kind  of  centre  in  which  all  Catholic  devotions 
meet,  and  which  satisfies  more  than  any  other  single  de- 
votion our  duties  in  that  way  ;  because  it  is  a  devotion 
all  of  love,  and  of  disinterested  love.  If  we  cast  an  eye 
over  the  chief  Catholic  devotions,  we  shall  see  the  truth 
of  this.  Take  the  devotion  of  St.  Ignatius  to  the  glory 
of  God.  This,  if  I  may  dare  to  use  such  an  expression 
of  Him,  was  the  special  and  favorite  devotion  of  Jesus. 
Now,  Purgatory  is  simply  a  field  white  for  the  harvest 
of  God's  glory.  Not  a  prayer  can  be  said  for  the  Holy 
Souls,  but  God  is  at  once  glorified,  both  by  the  faith  and 
the  charity  of  the  mere  prayer.  Not  an  alleviation,  how- 
ever trifling,  can  befall  any  one  of  the  souls,  but  He  is 
forthwith  glorified  by  the  honor  of  His  Son's  Precious 
Blood,  and  the  approach  of  the  soul  to  bliss.  Not  a  soul 
is  delivered  from  its  trial  but  God  is  immensely  glorified. 

Again,  what  devotion  is  more  justly  dear  to  Christians 
than  the  devotion  to  the  Sacred  Humanity  of  Jesus  ?  It 
is  rather  a  family  of  various  and  beautiful  devotions,  than 
a  devotion   by  itself.     Yet  see  how  they  are  all,  as  it 


.. 


DOCTRINATi   A\D    .'KVOTIONAI.. 


lOI 


were,  fulfilled,  affectionately  fulfilled,  in  devotion  t(^  the 
Holy  Souls.  The  quicker  the  souls  are  liberated  from 
Purgatory,  the  more  is  tiie  beautiful  harvest  of  llis 
Blessed  Passion  multiplied  and  accelerated.  An  early 
harvest  is  a  blessing,  as  weU  as  a  plentiful  one  ;  lor  all 
delay  of  a  soul's  ingress  into  the  praise  of  heaven  is  an 
eternal  and  irremediable  loss  of  honor  and  glory  to  the 
Sacred  Humanity  of  Jesus.  How  strangely  things  sound 
in  the  language  of  the  Sanctuary  !  yet  so  it  is.  Can  the 
Sacred  Humanity  be  honored  more  than  by  the  Adorable 
Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  ?  And  here  is  our  chief  action  upon 
Purgatory.     .     .     . 

Devotion  to  our  dearest  Mother  is  equally  compre- 
hended in  this  devotion  to  the  Holy  wSouls,  whether  wc 
look  at  her  as  the  Mother  of  Jesus,  and  so  sharing  the 
honors  of  His  Sacred  Humanity,  or  as  Mother  of  mercy, 
and  so  specially  honored  by  works  of  mercy,  or,  lastly, 
as,  in  a  particular  sense,  the  Queen  of  Purgatory,  and  so 
having  all  manner  of  dear  interests  to  be  promoted  in  the 
welfare  and  deliverance  of  those  suffering  souls. 

Next  to  this  we  may  rank  devotion  to  the  Holy  Angels, 
and  this  also  is  satisfied  in  devotion  to  the  Holy  Souls. 
For  it  keeps  filling  the  vacant  thrones  in  the  angelic 
choirs,  those  unsightly  gaps  which  the  fall  of  Lucifer  and 
one-third  of  the  heavenly  host  occasioned.  It  multiplies 
the  companions  of  the  blessed  spirits.  They  may  be 
supposed  also  to  look  with  an  especial  interest  on  that 
part  of  the  Church  which  lies  in  Purgatory,  because  it  is 
already  crowned  with  their  own  dear  gift  and  ornament 
of  final  perseverance,  and  yet  it  has  not  entered  at  once 
into  its  inheritance  as  they  did.  Many  of  them  also  have 
a  tender  personal  interest  in  Purgatory.  Thousands, 
perhaps  millions  of  them,  are  guardians  to  those  souls, 
and  their  office  is  not  over  yet.  Thousands  have  clients 
there  who  were  especially  devoted  to  them  in  life.  Will 
St.  Raphael,  who  was  so  faithful  to  Tobias,  be  less  faith- 
ful to  his  clients  there  ?  Whole  choirs  are  interested 
about  others,  either  because  they  are  finally  to  be  aggre- 


?  -li 


i 


MM 


I . 


f 


M 


^ 


i 


102 


PURGATORY. 


j^atcd  to  that  choir,  or  because  in  life-time  they  liatl  a 
special  devotion  to  it.  xMarie  Denise,  ot"  the  Visitation, 
used  to  conj.rratulate  her  an<^el  every  day  on  the  grace 
he  had  received  to  stand  when  so  many  around  him  were 
fallinjjf.  It  was  the  only  thinij  she  couhl  know  lor  certain 
of  his  past  life.  Could  he  nej^lect  her,  if  by  the  will  of 
(iod  she  went  to  Purgatory?  Again,  St.  Michael,  as 
l)rince  of  Purgatory,  and  Our  Lady's  regent,  in  fulhlment 
of  the  dear  office  attributed  to  him  by  the  Church  in  the 
Mass  for  the  Dead,  takes  as  homage  to  himself  all  charity 
to  the  Holy  Souls  ;  and  if  it  be  true,  that  a  zealous  heart 
is  always  a  proof  of  a  grateful  one,  that  bold  and  mag- 
nificent spirit  will  recompense  us  one  day  in  his  own 
princely  style,  and  perhaps  within  the  limits  of  that  his 
special  jurisdiction. 

Neither  is  devotion  to  the  vSaints  without  its  interests 
in  this  devotion  for  the  dead.  It  fills  them  with  the  de- 
lights of  charity  as  it  swells  their  numbers  and  beautifies 
their  ranks  and  orders.  Numberless  patron  saints  arc 
personally  interested  in  multitudes  of  souls.  The  affec- 
tionate relation  between  their  clients  and  themselves  not 
only  subsists,  but  a  deeper  tenderness  has  entered  into 
it,  because  of  the  fearfiil  suffering,  and  a  livelier  interest, 
because  of  the  accomplished  victory.  They  see  in  the 
Holy  Souls  their  own  handiwork,  the  fruit  of  their  ex- 
ample, the  answer  to  their  prayers,  the  success  of  their 
patronage,  the  beautiful  and  finished  crown  of  their  affec- 
tionate intercession. 

*  *  *  «  *  *  ■%' 

Another  point  of  view  from  which  we  may  look  at  this 
devotion  for  the  dead,  is  as  a  specially  complete  and 
beautiful  exercise  of  the  three  theological  virtues  of  faith, 
hope,  and  charity,  which  are  the  supernatural  fountains 
of  our  whole  spiritual  life.  It  exercises  faith,  because  it 
leads  men  not  only  to  dwell  in  the  unseen  world,  but  to 
work  for  it  with  as  much  energy  and  conviction  as  if  it  was 
before  their  very  eyes.  Unthoughtful  or  ill-read  persons 
almost   start  sometimes    at  the   minuteness,  familiarity, 


DOCTRINAL   AND   DFA'OTIONAI.. 


103 


nnd  assurance  with  wliich  men  talk  of  the  unseen  world, 
as  it  it  were  the  banks  ot  the  J^hine,  or  the  olive-yards 
of  l^rovence,  the  Canipajj^ua  of  Konie,  or  the  crescent 
vshores  of  Nai)les,  some  place  whicii  they  have  seen  in 
their  travels,  and  whose  ^eoj^raphical  features  are  ever 
in  their  memory, as  vividly  as  if  belore  their  eyes.  It  all 
comes  of  faith,  of  i)rayer,  of  spiritual  readiniLC,  of  knowl- 
edge of  the  lives  of  the  Saints,  and  of  the  study  of 
theoloj^y.  It  would  he  strange  and  sad  if  it  wee  not  so. 
Tor,  what  to  us,  either  in  interest  or  imp(>rt;ince,  is  the 
world  we  see,  to  the  world  wc  do  not  see?  This  devo- 
tion exercises  our  faith  also  in  the  effects  of  the  sacrifice 
and  sacraments,  which  are  things  we  do  not  see,  but 
which  we  daily  talk  of  in  reference  to  the  dead  ar,  un- 
doubted and  accompli:;hed  facts.  It  exercises  our  faith 
in  the  communion  of  wSaints  to  a  degree  which  would 
make  it  seem  impossible  to  a  heretic  that  he  ever  could 
believe  so  wild  and  extravagant  a  creed.  It  acts  with 
regard  to  indulgences  as  if  they  were  the  most  inevitable 
material  transactions  of  this  world.  It  knows  of  the  un- 
seen treasure  out  of  which  they  come,  of  the  unseen  keys 
which  open  the  treasury,  of  the  indefinite  jurisdiction 
which  places  them  infallibly  at  its  disposal,  of  God's  un- 
revealed  acceptance  of  them,  and  of  the  invisible  w(jrk 
they  do,  just  as  it  knows  of  trees  and  clouds,  of  streets 
and  churches — that  is,  just  as  certainly  and  undoubtiMgly  ; 
though  it  often  can  give  others  no  proof  of  these  things, 
nor  account  for  them  to  itself.  ...  It  exhibits  the 
same  quiet  faith  in  all  those  Catholic  devotions  which  I 
mentioned  before  as  centering  themselves  in  this  devotion 
for  the  dead. 

¥:  -/f  ¥t  -:^  -A  *  % 

Neither  is  this  devotion  a  less  heroic  exercise  of  the 
theological  virtue  of  hope,  the  virtue  so  sadly  wanting  in 
the  spiritual  life  of  these  times.  For,  look  what  a  mighty 
edifice  this  devotion  raises;  lofty,  intricate,  and  of  mag- 
nificent proportions,  into  which  somehow  or  other  all 
creation  is  drawn,  from  the  little   headache  we  suffer  up 


■• 

i     1 

1 

1 

iff 


M 
■vi 


II 


104 


PURGATORY. 


to  the  Sacred  TTumanity  of  Jesus,  and  which  has  to  do 

even  with  God  Himself.     And  upon  what  does  all  this  rest, 

except  on  a  simple,  child-like  trust  in  God's  fidelity,  which 

is  the  supernatural  motive  of  hope?     We  hope  for  the 

souls  we  help,  and  unbounded  are  the  benedictions  which 

we  hope  for  in  their  regard.     We  hope  to  find  mercy 

ourselves,  because  of  our  mercy  ;  and  this  hope  quickens 

our  merits  without  detracting   from  the   merit   of  our 

charity.     .     .     .     For  the  state  of  the  dead  is  no  dream, 

nor  our  power  to  help  them  a  dream,  any  more  than  the 

purity  of    God   is   a  dream,  or  the   Precious   Blood  a 

dream. 

*  *  vt  vt  *  *  * 

As  to  the  charity  of  this  devotion,  it  dares  to  imitate 
even  the  charity  of  God  Himself.  What  is  there  in 
heaven  or  on  earth  which  it  does  not  embrace,  and  with  so 
much  facility,  with  so  much  gracefulness,  as  if  there  were 
scarcely  an  effort  in  it,  or  as  if  self  was  charmed  away, 
and  might  not  mingle  to  distract  it  ?  It  is  an  exercise  oi 
the  love  of  God,  for  it  is  loving  those  whom  He  loves,  and 
loving  them  because  He  loves  them,  and  to  augment  His 
glory  and  multiply  His  praise.  .  .  .  To  ourselves 
also  it  is  an  exercise  of  charity,  for  it  gains  us  friends  in 
heaven ;  it  earns  mercy  for  us  when  we  ourselves  shall 
be  in  Purgatory,  tranqun  victims,  yet,  oh!  in  what  dis- 
tress! and  it  augments  our  merits  in  the  sight  of  God, 
and  so,  if  only  we  persevere,  our  eternal  recompense 
hereafter.  Now  if  this  tenderness  for  the  dead  is  such  an 
exercise  of  these  three  theological  virtues,  and  if,  again, 
even  heroic  sanctity  consists  principally  in  their  exercise, 
what  store  ought  we  not  to  set  upon  this  touching  and 
beautiful  devotion? 

%  '/:  -A-  ->fr  *  %  V: 

Look  at  that  vast  kingdom  of  Purgatory,  with  its  em- 
press-mother, Mary  1  All  those  countless  throngs  of  souls 
are  the  dear  and  faithful  spouses  of  Jesus.  Yet  in  what 
a  strange  abandonment  of  supernatural  suffering  has  His 
love   left  them !     He   longs   for  their  deliverance ;    He 


•V 


■ 


i 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


105 


yearns  for  them  to  be  transferred  from  tliat  land,  per- 
petually overclouded  with  pain,  to  the  bright  sunshine  of 
their  heavenly  home.  Yet  He  has  tied  His  own  hands, 
or  nearly  so.  He  gives  them  no  more  grace  ;  He  allows 
them  no  more  time  for  penance  ;  He  prevents  them  from 
meriting ;  nay,  some  have  thought  they  could  not  pray. 
How,  then,  stands  the  case  with  the  souls  in  the  suffering 
Church?  Why,  it  is  a  thing  to  be  meditated  on  when 
we  have  said  it — they  depend  almost  more  on  earth  than 
they  do  on  heaven,  almost  more  on  us  than  on  Him ;  so 
He  has  willed  it  on  whom  all  depend,  and  without  whom 
there  is  no  dependence,  It  is  clear,  then,  that  Jesus  has 
His  interests  there.  He  wants  His  captives  released. 
Those  whom  He  has  redeemed  He  now  bids  us  redeem, 
us  whom,  if  there  be  life  at  all  in  us,  He  has  already  Him- 
self redeemed.  Every  satisfaction  offered  up  to  God  for 
these  suffering  souls,  every  oblation  of  the  Precious 
Blood  to  the  Eternal  Father,  every  Mass  heard,  every 
communion  received,  every  voluntary  penance  under- 
gone: the  scourge,  the  hair-shirt,  the  prickly  chain,  every 
indulgence  gained,  every  jubilee  whose  conditions  we 
have  fulfilled,  every  Dc  Profiindis  whispered,  every  little 
alms  doled  out  to  the  poor  who  are  poorer  than  our- 
selves, and,  if  they  be  offered  for  the  intention  of  these 
dear  prisoners,  the  interests  of  Jesus  are  hourly  for- 
warded in  Mary's  Kingdom  of  Purgatory.  .  .  .  There 
is  no  fear  of  overworking  the  glorious  secretary  of  that 
wide  realm,  the  blessed  Michael,  Mary's  subject.  See 
how  men  work  at  the  pumps  on  ship-board  when  they 
are  fighting  for  their  lives  with  an  ugly  leak.  Oh  !  that 
we  had  the  charity  so  to  work,  with  the  sweet  instru- 
mentality of  indulgence,  for  the  Holy  Souls  in  Purgatory  ! 
The  infinite  satisfactions  of  Jesus  are  at  our  command, 
and  Mary's  sorrows,  and  the  Martyr's  pangs,  and  the 
Confessor's  weary  perseverance  in  well-doing !  Jesus  will 
not  help  Himself  here,  because  He  loves  to  see  us  helping 
Him,  and  because  He  thinks  our  love  will  rejoice  that  He 
still  leaves  us  something  we  can  do  for  Him.    There  have 


iM 

■i  \ 
t '. 

111 

1 

:,l 


I. 


I 


r" 


1 06 


rURGATORY. 


been  Saints  who  have  devoted  their  whole  lives  to  this 
one  work,  mining  in  Purgatory  ;  and,  to  those  who  re- 
flect in  faith,  it  does  not  seem,  after  all,  so  strange.  It  is 
a  foolish  comparison,  simply  because  it  is  so  much  below 
the  mark ;  but  on  all  principles  of  reckoning,  it  is  a  much 
less  work  to  have  won  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  or  to  have 
invented  the  steam-engine,  than  to  have  freed  one  soul 
from  Purgatory. 


1 1' 


(P 


1 1 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


107 


WHY    THE    SOULS    IN    PURGATORY    ARE    CALLED 

"POOR"    SOULS. 


FATHER    MULLKR,   C.SS.R 


1 


We  have  just  seen  that  the  Jews  believed  in  the  doc- 
trine of  Purgatory ;  we  have  seen  that  their  charity  lor 
the  dead  was  so  great  that  the  Holy  Ghost  could  not  help 
praising  them  for  it.  Yet  for  all  that,  we  may  assert  in 
truth  that  the  people  of  God  under  the  Old  Law  were 
not  so  well  instructed  in  this  doctrine  as  we  are,  nor  had 
they  such  powerful  means  to  relieve  the  souls  in  Purga- 
tory as  we  have.  Our  faith,  therefore,  should  be  more 
lively,  and  our  charity  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory  more 
ardent  and  generous. 

A  short  time  ago  a  fervent  young  priest  of  this  coun- 
try had  the  following  conversation  with  a  holy  Bishop  on 
his  way  to  Rome.  The  Bishop  said  to  him :  '*  You  make 
mementoes  now  and  then,  for  friends  of  yours  that  are 
dead — do  you  not  ?  "  The  young  priest  answered  :  *'  Cer- 
tainly, I  do  so  very  often."  The  Bishop  rejoined :  "  So 
did.  1,  when  I  was  a  young  priest.  But  one  time  I  was 
grievously  ill.  I  was  given  up  as  about  to  die.  I  received 
Extreme  Unction  and  the  Viaticum.  It  was  then  that 
my  whole  past  life,  with  all  its  failings  and  all  its  sins, 
came  before  me  with  startling  vividness.  I  saw  how 
much  I  had  to  atone  for;  and  I  reflected  on  how  few 
Masses  would  be  said  for  me,  and  how  few  prayers. 
Ever  since  my  recovery  I  have  most  fervently  offered  the 
Holy  Sacrifice  for  the  repose  of  the  pious  and  patient 
souls  in  Purgatory ;  and  I  am  always  glad  when  I  can, 
as  my  own  offering,  make  the  *  intention  *  of  my  Masses 
for  the  relief  of  their  pains." 

Indeed,  dear  reader,  no  one  is  more  deserving  of  Chris- 
tian charity  and  sympathy  than  the  poor  souls  in  Purga- 

'  Charity  to  the  Holy  Souls  in  Purgatory. 


I  08 


PURGATORY. 


•  i 


tory.     They  are  rca//j/  poor  sou/s.     No  one  is  sooner  for- 
gotten than  they  are. 

How  soon  their  friends  persuade  themselves  that  they 
are  in  perfect  peace !  How  little  they  do  for  their  relief 
when  their  bodies  are  buried  !  There  is  a  lavish  expense 
for  the  funeral.  A  hundred  dollars  are  spent  where  the 
means  of  the  family  hardly  justify  the  half  of  it.  Where 
there  is  more  wealth,  sometimes  five  hundred  or  a  thou- 
sand, and  even  more,  dollars  are  expended  on  the  poor 
dead  body.  But  let  me  ask  you  what  is  done  for  the 
foor  living  soul  ?  Perhaps  the  poor  soul  is  suffering  the 
most  frightful  tortures  in  Purgatory,  whilst  the  lifeless 
body  is  laid  out  in  state,  and  borne  pompously  to  the 
graveyard.  You  must  not  misunderstand  me :  it  is  right 
and  just  to  show  all  due  respect  even  to  the  body  of  your 
deceased  friend,  for  that  body  was  once  the  dwelling- 
place  of  his  soul.  But  tell  me  candidly,  what  joy  has  the 
departed,  and,  perhaps,  suffering  soul,  in  the  fine  music 
of  the  choir,  even  should  the  choir  be  composed  of  the 
best  singers  in  the  country  ?  What  consolation  does  the 
poor  suffering  soul  find  in  the  superb  coffin,  in  the  splen- 
did funeral  ?  What  pleasure  does  the  soul  derive  from 
the  costly  marble  monument,  from  all  the  honors  that  are 
so  freely  lavished  on  the  body  ?  All  this  may  satisfy,  or 
at  least  seem  to  satisfy,  the  living,  but  it  is  of  no  avail 
whatever  to  the  dead. 

Poor  unhappy  souls  !  how  the  diminution  of  true  Cath- 
olic faith  is  visited  upon  you  while  you  suffer,  and  those 
that  loved  you  in  life  might  help  you,  and  do  not,  for 
want  of  knowledge  or  of  faith  ! 

Poor  unhappy  souls  !  your  friends  go  to  their  business, 
to  their  eating  and  drinking,  with  the  foolish  assurance 
that  the  case  cannot  be  hard  on  one  they  knev/  to  be  so 
good !  Oh,  how  much  and  how  long  this  false  charity 
of  your  friends  makes  you  suffer! 

The  venerable  Sister,  Catherine  Paluzzi,  offered  up,  for 
a  long  time,  and  with  the  utmost  fervor,  prayers  and 
pious  works  for  the  soul  of  her  deceased  father.     At  last 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


109 


V  S 


I 


V 


she  thought  she  had  good  reason  to  believe  that  her 
father  was  already  enjoying  the  bliss  of  Paradise.  But 
how  great  was  her  consternation  and  grief  when  Our 
Lord,  in  company  with  St.  Catherine,  her  patroness, 
led  her  one  day,  in  spirit,  to  Purgatory.  There  she  be- 
held her  father  in  an  abyss  of  torments,  imploring  her 
assistance.  At  the  sight  of  the  pitiful  state  the  soul  of 
her  father  was  in,  she  melted  into  tears  ;  she  cast  her- 
self at  the  feet  of  her  Heavenly  Spouse,  and  begged  Him, 
through  His  precious  Blood,  to  free  her  father  from  his 
excruciating  sufferings.  She  also  begged  St.  Catherine 
to  intercede  for  him,  and  then  turning  to  Our  Lord,  she 
said  :  **  Charge  me,  O  Lord,  with  my  father's  indebted- 
ness to  Thy  justice.  In  expiation  of  it,  I  am  ready  to 
take  upon  myself  all  the  afflictions  Thou  art  pleased  to 
bestow  upon  me."  Our  Lord  graciously  accepted  this 
act  of  heroic  charity,  and  released  at  once  her  father's 
soul  from  Purgatory.  But  how  heavy  were  the  crosses 
which  she,  from  that  time,  had  to  suffer,  may  be  more 
easily  imagined  than  described.  This  pious  sister  seemed 
to  have  good  reason  to  believe  that  her  father's  soul  was 
in  Paradise.  Yet  she  was  mistaken.  Alas !  how  many 
are  there  who  resemble  her  !  How  many  are  there  whose 
hope  as  to  the  condition  of  their  deceased  friends  is  far 
more  vain  and  false  than  that  of  this  religious,  because 
they  pray  much  less  for  the  souls  of  their  departed  friends 
than  she  did  for  her  father. 


* 


* 


It  is  related  in  the  life  of  St.  Mary  Magdalen  of  Pazzi, 
that  one  day  she  saw  the  soul  of  one  of  her  deceased  sis- 
ters kneeling  in  adoration  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament, 
in  the  church,  wrapped  up  in  a  mantle  of  fire,  and  suffer- 
ing great  pains,  in  expiation  of  her  neglecting  to  go  to 
Holy  Communion  on  one  day,  when  she  had  her  confes- 
sor's permission  to  communicate. 

******* 

The  Venerable  Bede  relates  that  it  was  revealed  to 
Drithelm,  a  great  servant  of  God,  that  the  souls  of  those 


I 


no 


PURGATORY. 


Avho  spend  their  whole  lives  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin,  and 
arc  converted  only  on  their  death-bed,  are  doomed  to 
suffer  the  pains  of  Purgatory  to  the  day  of  the  last  judg- 
ment. 

In  the  life  and  revelations  of  St.  Gertrude  we  read  that 
those  who  have  committed  many  grievous  sins,  and  who 
die  without  having  done  due  penance,  are  not  assisted 
by  the  ordinary  suffrages  of  the  Church  until  they  arc 
partly  purified  by  Divine  Justice  in  Purgatory. 

After  St.  Vincent  Ferrer  had  learned  the  death  of  his 
sister  Frances,  he  at  once  began  to  offer  up  many  fervent 
prayers  and  works  of  penance  for  the  repose  of  her  soul. 
He  also  said  thirty  Masses  for  her,  at  the  last  of  which  it 
was  revealed  to  him  that,  had  it  not  been  for  his  prayers 
and  good  works,  the  soul  of  his  sister  would  have  suffered 
in  Purgatory  to  the  end  of  the  world. 

From  these  examples  you  may  draw  your  own  conclu- 
sion as  to  the  state  of  your  deceased  friends  and  rela- 
tives. Rest  assured  that  the  judgments  of  God  are  very 
different  from  the  judgments  of  men. 

-A-  -X-  *  *  *  *  * 

In  heaven,  love  for  God  is  the  happiness  of  the  elect ; 
but  in  Purgatory  it  is  the  source  of  the  most  excruciating 
pains.  It  is  principally  for  this  reason  that  the  souls  in 
Purgatory  are  called ''poor  souls,"  they  being,  as  they 
are,  in  the  most  dreadful  state  of  poverty — that  of  the 
privation  of  the  beatific  vision  of  God. 

After  Anthony  Corso,  a  Capuchin  Brother,  a  man  of 
great  piety  and  perfection,  had  departed  this  life,  he  ap- 
peared to  one  of  his  brethren  in  religion,  asking  him  to 
recommend  him  to  the  charitable  prayers  of  the  com- 
munity, in  order  that  he  might  receive  relief  in  his  pains. 
"  For  I  do  not  know,"  said  he,  "  how  I  can  bear  any  longer 
the  pain  of  being  deprived  of  the  sight  of  my  God.  I 
shall  be  the  most  unhappy  of  creatures  as  long  as  I  must 
live  in  this  state.  Would  to  God  that  all  men  might 
understand  what  it  is  to  be  without  God,  in  order  that 
they  might  firmly  resolve  to  suffer  anything  during  their 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


Ill 


d 


) 


life  on  earth  rather  than  expose  tliemselves  to  the  danger 
of  being-  damned,  and  deprived  forever  of  the  sight  of 
God."'' 

*  ^v  *  *  ^fr  *  * 

The  souls  in  I'urgatory  are  poor  souls,  because  they 
suffer  the  greatest  pain  of  the  senses,  which  is  that  of 
fire.  Who  can  be  in  a  poorer  or  more  pitiful  condition 
than  those  who  are  buried  in  fire  ?  Now,  this  is  the  con- 
dition of  these  poor  souls.  They  are  buried  under  waves 
of  fire.  It  is  from  the  smallest  spark  of  this  purgatorial 
fire  that  they  suffer  more  intense  pains  than  all  the  fires 
of  this  world  put  together  could  produce.     .     .     . 

Could  these  poor  souls  leave  the  fire  of  Purgatory  for 
the  most  frightful  earthly  fire  they  would,  as  it  were,  take 
it  for  a  pleasure-garden ;  they  would  find  a  fifty  years' 
stay  in  the  -hottest  earthly  fire  more  endurable  than  an 
hour's  stay  in  the  fire  of  Purgatory.  Our  terrestrial  fire 
was  not  created  by  God  to  torment  men,  but  rather  to 
benefit  them ;  but  the  fire  of  Purgatory  was  created  by 
God  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  be  an  instrument  of 
His  justice  ;  and  for  this  reason  it  is  possessed  of  a  burn- 
ing quality  so  intense  and  penetrating  that  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  conceive  even  the  faintest  idea  of  it. 

*  *  *  >k  *  *  % 

In  the  year  ii 50  it  happened  that,  on  the  Vigil  of  St. 
Cecilia,  a  very  old  monk,  one  hundred  years  of  age,  at 
Marchiennes,  in  Flanders,  fell  asleep  while  sacred  lessons 
were  being  read,  and  saw,  in  a  dream,  a  monk  all  clad  in 
armor,  shining  like  red-hot  iron  in  a  furnace.  The  old  man 
asked  him  who  he  was.  He  was  told  that  he  was  one  of 
the  monks  of  the  convent ;  that  he  was  in  Purgatory,  and 
had  yet  to  endure  this  fiery  armor  for  ten  years  more,  for 
having  injured  the  reputation  of  another. 

******* 

Another  reason  why  these  holy  prisoners  and  debtors 
to  the  divine  justice  are  really  poor  is  because  they  are 
not  able,  in  the  least,  to  assist  themselves.     A  sick  man 

'  Annal.  Pp.  Capuc,  A.D.  1548. 


■ 

1 

v 

1  ,l 

ill 


112 


PURGATORY. 


afflicted  in  all  his  limbs,  and  a  beggar  in  the  most  painful 
and  most  destitute  of  conditions,  has  a  tongue  left  to  ask 
for  relief.  At  least  they  can  implore  Heaven  ;  it  is  never 
deaf  to  their  prayer.  But  the  souls  in  Purgatory  are  so 
poor  that  they  cannot  even  do  this.  Those  cases  in 
which  some  of  them  were  permitted  to  appear  to  their 
friends  and  ask  assistance  are  but  exceptions.  To  whom 
is  it  they  should  have  recourse  ?  Is  it,  perhaps,  to  the 
mercy  of  God  ?  Alas  !  they  send  forth  their  sighs  in 
plaintive  voices.  .  .  .  But  the  Lord  does  not  regard 
their  tears,  nor  heed  their  moans  and  cries,  but  answers 
them  that  His  justice  must  be  satisfied  to  the  last  farthing. 
*  *  ■»  %i  *  -;&  * 

Oh,  what  cruelty  !  A  sick  man  weeps  on  his  bed  and 
his  friend  consoles  him ;  a  baby  cries  in  his  cradle  and  his 
mother  at  once  caresses  him  ;  a  beggar  knocks  at  the  door 
for  an  alms  and  receives  it ;  a  malefactor  laments  in  his 
prison,  and  comfort  is  given  him  ;  even  a  dog  that  whines 
at  the  door  is  taken  in ;  but  these  poor,  helpless  souls  cry 
day  and  night  from  the  depths  of  the  fire  in  Purgatory  : 
"  Have  pity  on  me,  have  pity  on  me,  at  least  you,  my 
friends,  because  the  hand  of  the  Lord  hath  smitten  me  ;" 
and  there  is  none  to  listen  !  Oh,  what  great  cruelty,  my 
brethren ! 

But  it  seems  to  me  that  I  hear  these  poor  souls  exclaim  : 
**  Priest  of  the  Lord,  speak  no  longer  of  our  sufferings 
and  pitiable  condition.  Let  your  description  of  it  be  ever 
so  touching,  it  will  not  afford  us  the  least  relief.  When  a 
man  has  fallen  into  the  fire,  instead  of  considering  his 
pains,  you  try  at  once  to  draw  him  out  or  quench  the 
fire  with  water.  This  is  true  charitv.  Now,  tell  Chris- 
tians  to  do  the  same  for  us.  Tell  them  to  give  us  their 
feet,  by  going  to  hear  Mass  for  us  ;  to  give  us  their  eyes, 
by  seeking  an  occasion  to  perform  a  good  work  for  us  ; 
to  give  us  their  hands,  by  giving  an  alms  for  us,  or  by 
often  making  an  offering  for  the  *  intention  '  of  Masses  in 
our  behalf;  to  give  us  their  lips,  by  praying  for  us ;  to 
give  us  their  tongue,  by  requesting  others  to  be  chari- 


td 

c\ 
o| 
aj 

P 
aj 

h 

ill 

b 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


"3 


tabic  to  us ;  to  give  us  i  icir  memory,  by  remembering  us 
constantly  in  their  devotions  ;  to  give  us  their  body,  by 
offering  up  lor  us  to  the  Almighty  all  its  labors,  fatigues, 
and  penance."     ... 

We  read  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  that  the  faithful 
prayed  unceasingly  for  St.  Peter  when  he  was  imprisoned, 
and  that  an  Angel  came  and  broke  his  chains  and  released 
him.  We,  too,  should  be  good  angels  to  the  poor  souls 
in  Purgatory,  and  free  them  from  their  painful  captivity 
by  every  means  in  our  power. 

*  ^V  ^  ^  V:  V:  V: 

In  the  time  of  St.  Bernard,  a  monk  of  Clairvaux 
appeared  after  his  death  to  his  brethren  in  religion,  to 
thank  them  for  having  delivered  him  from  Purgatory. 
On  being  asked  what  had  most  contributed  to  free  him 
from  his  torments,  he  led  the  inquirer  to  the  church, 
where  a  priest  was  saying  Mass.  "  Look !"  said  he ; 
**  this  is  the  means  by  which  my  deliverance  has  been 
effected ;  this  is  the  power  of  God's  mercy  ;  this  is  the 
saving  Sacrifice  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world.'' 
Indeed,  so  great  is  the  efficacy  of  this  Sacrifice  in  obtain- 
ing relief  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  that  the  application 
of  all  the  good  works  which  have  been  performed  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world,  would  not  afford  r,o  much 
assistance  to  one  of  these  souls  as  is  imparted  by  a  single 
Mass.  To  illustrate :  The  blessed  Henry  Suso  made  an 
agreement  with  one  of  his  brethren  in  religion  that,  as 
soon  as  either  of  them  died,  the  survivor  should  say  two 
Masses  every  week  for  one  year,  for  the  repose  of  his 
soul.  It  came  to  pass  that  the  religious  with  whom  Henry 
had  made  this  contract,  died  first.  Henry  prayed  every 
day  for  his  deliverance  from  Purgatory,  but  forgot  to  say 
the  Masses  which  he  had  promised ;  whereupon  the  de- 
ceased religious  appeared  to  him  with  a  sad  countenance, 
and  sharply  rebuked  him  for  his  unfaithfulness  to  his 
engagement.  Henry  excused  himself  by  saying  that  he 
had  often  prayed  for  him  with  great  fervor,  and  had  even 
offered  up  for  him  many  penitential  works.  "  Oh,  brother ! " 


I  s 


114 


PURGATORY. 


'. 


i  '. 


exclaimed  the  soul,  "  blood,  blood  is  necessary  to  give  me 
some  relief  and  refreshment  in  my  excruciating  torments. 
Your  penitential  works,  severe  as  they  are,  cannot  deliver 
me.  Nothing  can  do  this  but  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ, 
which  is  offered  up  in  the  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass.  Masses, 
Masses — these  arc  what  I  need !  " 

"<  *  -x-  ■/;  *  4t  it 

Another  means  to  relieve  the  souls  in  Purgatory  is  to 
gain  indulgences  for  them.  A  very  pious  nun  had  just 
died  in  the  convent  in  which  St.  Mary  Magdalen  of  Pazzi 
lived.  Whilst  her  corpse  was  exposed  in  the  church,  the 
Saint  looked  lovingly  upon  it,  and  prayed  fervently  that 
the  soul  of  her  sister  might  soon  enter  into  eternal  rest. 
Whilst  she  was  thus  wrapt  in  prayer  her  sister  appeared 
to  her,  surrounded  by  great  splendor  and  radiance,  in  the 
act  of  ascending  into  heaven.  The  Saint,  on  seeing  this, 
could  not  refrain  from  calling  out  to  her  :  "  Farewell,  dear 
sister !  When  you  meet  your  Heavenly  Spouse,  remember 
us  who  arc  still  sighing  for  Him  in  this  vale  of  tears  !  " 
At  these  words  our  Lord  Himself  appeared,  and  revealed 
to  her  that  this  sister  had  entered  heaven  so  soon  on 
account  of  the  indulgences  gained  for  her.^ 

Very  many  plenary  indulgences  can  be  gained  for  the 
souls  in  Purgatory,  if  you  make  the  Stations  of  the  Cross. 
The  merit  of  this  exercise,  if  applied  to  these  souls,  obtains 
great  relief  for  them.  We  read  in  the  life  of  Catherine 
Emmerich,  a  very  pious  Augustinian  nun,  that  the  souls 
in  Purgatory  often  came  to  her  during  the  night,  and 
requested  her  to  rise  and  make  the  Stations  for  their 
relief.  It  is  also  related  in  the  life  of  the  venerable  Mary 
of  Antigua,  that  a  deceased  sister  of  her  convent  appeared 
to  her  and  said  :  "  Why  do  you  not  make  the  Stations  of 
the  Way  of  the  Cross  for  iiie?"  Whilst  the  servant  of 
the  Lord  felt  surprised  and  astonished  at  these  words, 
Jesus  Christ  Himself  spoke  to  her,  thus:  "The  exercise 
of  the  Stations  is  of  the  greatest  advantage  to  the  souls 
in  Purgatory  ;  so  much  so  that  this  soul  has  been  per- 

'  Vita  S.  Magd.  de  Pazzi,  L.  I.,  chap,  xxxix. 


«i 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


115 


mittcd  by  Mc,  to  ask  of  3011  its  performance  in  behalf  of 
thcni  all.  Your  frequent  performance  of  this  exercise  to 
procure  relief  for  these  souls  has  induced  them  to  hold 
intercourse  with  you,  and  you  shall  have  them  for  so 
many  intercessors  and  ))rotectors  before  My  justice.  Tell 
your  sisters  to  rejoice  at  these  treasures,  and  the  splendid 
capital  which  they  have  in  them,  that  they  may  j^row  rich 
upon  it." 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

After  St.  Ludi^ardc  had  offered  up  many  fervent 
prayers  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  her  deceased  friend 
Simeon,  Abbot  of  the  monastery  of  Toniac,  Our  Lord 
appeared  to  her,  sayinj^ :  "  Be  consoled,  My  daughter ; 
on  account  of  thy  prayers,  I  will  soon  release  this  soul 
from  Purgatory."  "  O  Jesus,  Lord  and  Master  of  my 
heart !  "  she  rejoined,  "  1  cannot  feel  consoled  so  long  as 
I  know  that  the  soul  of  my  friend  is  suffering  so  much  in 
the  Purgatorial  fire.  Oh !  I  cannot  help  shedding  most 
bitter  tears  until  Thou  hast  released  this  soul  from  its 
sufferings."  Touched  and  overcome  by  this  fervent 
prayer,  Our  Lord  released  the  soul  of  Simeon,  who  ap- 
peared to  Ludgarde  all  radiant  with  heavenly  glory,  and 
thanked  her  for  the  many  fervent  prayers  which  she  had 
offered  up  for  his  delivery.  He  also  told  the  Saint  that, 
had  it  not  been  ff)r  her  fervent  prayers,  he  should  have 
been  obliged  to  stay  in  Purgatory  for  eleven  years.    .    .  . 

Peter,  the  venerable  Abbot  of  Cluny,  relates  an  evtnt 
somewhat  similar.  There  was  a  monk  at  Cluny,  named 
Bernard  Savinellus.  One  night  as  he  was  returning  to 
the  dormitory,  he  met  Stephen,  commonly  called  Blancus, 
Abbot  of  St.  Giles,  who  had  departed  this  life  a  few  days 
before.  At  first,  not  knowing  him,  he  was  passing  on, 
till  he  spoke,  and  asked  him  whither  he  was  hastening. 
Bernard,  astonished  and  angry  that  a  monk  should  speak, 
contrary  to  the  rules,  in  the  nocturnal  hours,  and  in  a 
place  where  it  was  not  permitted,  made  signs  to  him  to 
hold  his  peace ;  but  as  the  dead  abbot  replied,  and  urged 
him  to  speak,  the  other,  raising  his  head,  asked  in  amaze- 


M 


ii6 


rURGATORY. 


mcnt  who  he  might  be.  lie  was  answered,  "I  am 
Stephen,  the  Alihot  ot"  St.  Giles,  who  have  lortnerly  com- 
mitted many  laults  in  the  Abbey,  for  wiiich  I  now  suffer 
pains;  and  I  beseech  you  to  ini[)l()re  tlie  lord  Abbot,  and 
other  brethren,  to  pray  for  me,  tiuit  by  the  inefl'able  mercy 
of  God,  I  may  be  delivered."  Bernard  re[)lie(l  tiuit  he 
would  do  so,  but  added  tliat  he  thourjht  no  one  would 
believe  his  report ;  to  whicii  the  dead  man  answered,  "  In 
order,  then,  that  no  one  may  doubt,  you  may  assure  them 
that  within  eii^iit  days  you  will  die;"  he  then  disappeared. 
The  monk,  returning  to  the  church,  spent  the  remainder 
of  the  night  in  prayer  and  meditation.  When  it  was  day, 
he  related  his  vision  to  St.  Hugo,  who  was  then  abbot. 
As  is  natural,  some  believed  his  account,  and  others 
thougiit  it  was  some  delusion.  The  next  day  the  monk 
fell  sick,  and  continued  growing  worse,  constantly  afhrm- 
ing  the  truth  of  what  he  had  related,  till  his  death,  which 
occurred  witiiin  the  time  specified. 

•X-  •»  Vt  *  *  •»  % 

Besides  prayer  and  other  acts  of  devotion  we  can  offer 
up  for  the  poor  souls,  we  may  especially  reckon  n/uis- 
dccds ;  for  since  this  is  a  work  of  mercy,  it  is  more 
especially  apt  to  obtain  mercy  for  the  poor  souls.  But 
not  the  rich  alone  can  give  alms,  but  the  poor  also,  since 
it  does  not  so  much  depend  on  the  greatness  of  the  gift. 
Of  the  poor  widow  who  gave  but  one  penny,  Our  Lord 
saidj  that  she  had  given  more  than  all  the  rich  who  had 
offered  gold  and  silver,  because  these  offered  only  of 
their  abundance,  whilst  the  poor  widow  gave  what  she 
saved  from  her  daily  sustenance.     ... 

The  venerable  servant  of  God,  Father  Clement  Hoff- 
bauer,  of  the  Congregation  of  the  Most  Holy  Redeemer, 
who  died  in  Vienna  in  the  year  1820,  and  whose  cause  of 
beatification  has  already  been  introduced,  once  assisted 
a  man  of  distinction  in  death.  A  short  time  afterwards 
the  same  man  appeared  to  his  wife  in  a  dream,  in  a  very 
pitiable  condition,  his  clothes  in  rags  and  quite  haggard, 
and  shivering  with  cold.     He  begged  her  to  have  pity 


-"* 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


117 


I 


nr' 


on  him,  because  he  could  scarcely  entlure  tlie  extreme 
liuuL^er  and  cold  which  he  sidTered.  Ills  wile  went 
without  tlclay  to  Father  Ilolfbauci.  related  her  dream, 
and  asked  his  advice  on  this  point.  The  conl'essor,  en- 
lightened by  G(hI,  immedi  itely  unilcrstood  wliat  this 
dream  meant,  and  what  kind  oi  assistance  was  especially 
needed  and  asked  for  by  this  j)()()r  S(/id.  He  accordini^ly 
advised  her  to  clothe  a  poor  bej^^ar.  The  woman  fol- 
lowed the  advice,  and  soon  after  her  husband  asjjain 
ai)peared  to  her,  dressed  in  a  white  garment,  and  liis 
countenance  beamini^  witli  joy,  thanking  her  lor  the  help 
whicii  she  had  given  to  him. 

-y:  -X-  *  *  *  'A  'A- 

\Vc  can  assist  the  poor  souls  not  only  by  prayers,  de- 
votions, exterior  works  of  penance,  alms-deeds,  and  other 
works  of  charity,  but  wc  can  also  aid  them  by  i)itcrior 
mortifications.  Everything  which  appears  to  us  difhcult, 
and  which  costs  us  a  sacrifice,  the  pains  of  sickness,  and 
all  the  sufferings  and  troubles  of  this  life,  may  be  offered 
up  for  these  poor  souls.     ... 

The  only  son  of  a  rich  widow  of  Bologna  had  been 
murdered  by  a  stranger.  The  culprit  fell  into  her  hands, 
but  the  pious  widow  was  far  from  taking  revenge  by  de- 
livering him  uj)  to  the  hands  of  justice.  She  thought  of 
the  infinite  love  of  our  Saviour  when  He  died  for  us  upon 
the  cross,  and  how  He  prayed  for  His  executioners  when 
dying.  She,  therefore,  thought  that  she  could  in  no  way 
honor  the  memory  of  her  dear  son  better,  and  that  slie 
could  do  nothing  more  efficient  for  the  repose  of  his  soul, 
than  by  granting  pardon  to  the  culprit,  by  protecting 
him,  and  by  even  adopting  him  as  her  son  and  heir  to  all 
her  riches.  This  heroic  self-denial,  and  the  sacrifice 
which  she  thereby  offered  to  Our  Lord  in  memory  of  His 
bitter  Passion,  was  so  pleasing  to  God,  that,  in  reward 
thereof.  He  remitted  to  her  son  all  the  pains  of  Purga- 
tory. The  happy  son  then  appeared  to  his  mother  in  a 
glorified  state,  at  the  very  moment  when  he  was  entering 
heaven.     He  thanked  her  for  having  thus  delivered  him 


% 


i   i 


I 


Ii8 


rURGATORY. 


from  the  sufferings  of  Purgatory  much  sooner  than  any- 
other  good  work  could  have  effected  it. 

■A-  -X-  %  *  *  *  * 

Those  who  give  themselves  up  to  immoderate  grief  at 
the  loss  of  beloved  friends,  should  bear  this  in  mind  also  : 
instead  of  injuring  their  health  by  a  grief  which  is  of  no 
avail  to  the  dead,  they  should  endeavor  to  deliver  their 
souls  from  Purgatory  by  Masses,  prayers,  and  good 
works  ;  nay,  the  very  thought  that  they  thus  render  to 
the  souls  of  their  beloved  friends  the  greatest  possible  act 
of  charity,  will  console  them  and  mitigate  their  sorrow. 
For  this  reason  St.  Paul  exhorts  the  Thessalonians  not  to 
be  afflicted  on  account  of  the  departed,  after  the  manner 
of  heathens  who  have  no  hope. 

*  -X  V-  -X-  *  ^  'X- 

Thomas  Cantipratensis  relates  of  a  certain  mother,  that 
she  wept  day  and  night  over  the  death  of  her  darling  son, 
so  much  so  that  she  forsfot  to  assist  his  soul  in  Pursfa- 
tory.  To  convince  her  of  her  folly,  God  one  day  per- 
mitted her  to  be  rapt  in  spirit,  and  sec  a  long  procession 
of  youths  hastening  towards  a  city  of  indescribable 
beauty.  Having  looked  for  her  son  in  vain  for  some  time, 
she  at  last  discovered  him  walking  slowly  along  at  the 
end  of  the  procession.  At  once  her  son  turned  towards 
her,  and  said  :  "Ah,  mother,  cease  3'our  useless  tears ! 
and  if  you  truly  love  me,  offer  up  for  my  soul  Masses, 
prayers,  alms-deeda,  and  such  like  good  works."  Then  he 
disappeared,  and  his  mother,  instead  of  any  longer  wast- 
ing her  strength  by  foolish  grief,  began  henceforth  to 
give  her  son  proofs  of  a  true  Christian  and  motherly  love, 
by  complying  with  his  request.     (L.  II.  Appar.,  5,  17.) 

Among  the  appointments  to  the  Italian  Episcopate 
made  by  our  Holy  Father  Pope  Pius  IX.  was  that  of  an 
humble  and  holy  monk,  hidden  away  in  a  poor  monastery 
of  Tuscany.  When  he  received  his  Bulls  he  was  thrown 
into  the  greatest  affliction.  He  had  gone  into  religion 
to  be  done  with  the  world  outside  ;  and  here  he  was  to  be 
thrown  again  into  its  whirlpool.     He  made  a  novena  to 


f 


f 


w 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


119 


Our  Blessed  Lady,  invokinp^  her  help  to  rid  him  of  the 
burden  and  the  danger.  Meantime,  he  wrote  a  letter  to 
the  See  of  Rome  setting  forth  reasons  why  he  ought  not 
to  be  asked  to  accept,  and  also  sending  back  the  Bulls, 
with  a  positive  noluity  but  Rome  would  not  excuse  him. 
Then  he  went  in  person  to  see  the  Pope,  and  to  implore 
leave  to  decline,  which  he  did,  even  with  tears.  Among 
other  reasons,  the  good  monk  said  that  of  late  he  liad  a 
most  miserable  memory.  ''  That  is  unfortunate,"  said 
the  Holy  Father,  '*  for  after  your  death,  if  you  continue 

so,  no  one  will  ever  refer  to  you  as  INIonsignor ,  of 

happy  memory!  but  that  will  be  no  great  loss  to  you." 
Then,  seeing  the  intense  grief  of  the  nominated  Bishop, 
the  Holy  Father  changed  his  tone  and  said :  "  At  one 
time  of  my  life  I,  also,  was  threatened  with  the  loss  of  my 
memory.  But  I  found  a  remedy,  used  it,  and  it  has  not 
failed  me.  For  iJic  special  intention  of  preserving  this 
faculty  of  memory  I  have  said  every  day  a  *  De  Profnndis  ' 
for  the  souls  in  Purgatory.  I  give  you  this  receipt  for 
your  use  ;  and  now,  do  not  resist  the  will  of  him  who 
gives  you  and  the  people  of  your  diocese  his  blessing." 

It  is  a  new  revelation  that  our  Holy  Father  Pius  IX. 
was  ever  threatened  with  loss  of  memory.  Of  all  his 
faculties  of  mind  there  was  not  one  that  excited  such 
general  astonishment  as  his  wonderful  memory. 

-X-  ^  *C-  -V'f  %  -k  'h 

The  following  incident  took  place  at  Dole,  in  France  : 
One  day,  in  the  year  1629,  long  after  her  death,  Leonarda 
Colin,  niece  to  Hugueta  Roy,  appeared  to  her,  and  spoke 
as  follows:  **  I  am  saved  by  the  mercy  of  God.  It  is  now 
seventeen  years  since  I  was  struck  down  by  a  sudden 
death.  My  poor  soul  was  in  mortal  sin,  but,  thanks  to 
Mary,  whose  devoted  servant  I  had  ever  striven  to  be, 
1  obtained  grace,  in  the  last  extremity,  to  make  an  act  of 
perfect  contrition,  and  thus  I  was  re.sc-ued  from  hell-fire, 
but  by  no  means  from  Purgatory.  My  sufferings  in  those 
purifying  flames  are  beyond  description.  At  last  vVl- 
mighty  God  has  permitted  my  guardian  angel  to  conduct 


I20 


PURGATORY. 


me  to  you  in  order  that  you  may  make  three  pilgrimages 
to  three  Churches  of  our  Blessed  Lady  in  Burgundy. 
Upon  the  fulfillment  of  said  condition,  my  deliverance 
from  Purgatory  is  promised."  Hugueta  did  as  she  was 
requested  ;  whereupon  the  same  soul  appeared  in  a  glori- 
fied state,  thanking  her  benefactress,  and  promising  to 
pray  for  her,  and  admonishing  her  always  to  remember 
the  four  last  things. 

The  Greek  Emperor  Theophilus  was,  after  his  death, 
condemned  to  the  pains  of  Purgatory,  because  he  had 
been  unable  to  perform  the  penances  which,  towards  the 
end  of  his  life,  he  had  wished  to  perform.  Plis  wife,  the 
pious  Empress  Theodora,  was  not  satisfied  with  pouring 
forth  fervent  prayers  and  sighs  for  the  repose  of  his  soul, 
but  she  also  had  prayers  and  Masses  said  in  all  the  con- 
vents of  the  city  of  Constantinople.  Besides  this,  she 
besought  the  Patriarch  St.  Methodius,  that  for  this  end  he 
would  order  prayers  to  be  said  by  both  the  clergy  and 
the  people  of  the  cit}'.  Divine  mercy  could  not  resist  so 
man}'  fervent  prayers.  On  a  certain  day,  when  public 
prayers  were  again  offered  up  in  the  church  of  St.  Sophia, 
an  Angel  appeared  to  St.  Methodius,  and  said  to  him  : 
**  Thy  prayers,  O  Bishop,  have  been  heard,  and  Theo- 
philus has  obtained  pardon."  Theodora,  the  Empress, 
had,  at  the  same  time,  avision,  in  which  our  Lord  Himself 
announced  to  her  that  her  husband  had  been  delivered 
from  Purgatory.  *'  For  your  sake,"  He  said,  "  and  on 
account  of  the  prayers  of  the  priests,  I  pardon  your  hus- 
band." 

¥t  ¥i  ¥i  %  ¥:  ¥:  'A 

In  the  life  of  Blessed  Margaret  Mary  Alacoquc  it  is 
related  that  the  soul  of  one  of  her  departed  sisters  ap- 
peared to  her,  and  said :  "  There  you  are,  lying  comfort- 
ably in  your  bed ;  but  think  of  the  bed  on  which  I  am 
lying,  and  suffering  the  most  excruciating  pains."  "  I 
saw  this  bed,"  says  the  Saint,  "and  I  still  tremble  in  all 
my  limbs  at  the  mere  thought  of  it.  The  upper  and  lower 
part  of  it  was  full  of  red-hot  sharp  iron  points,  penetrating 


J" 


•^ 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


121 


into  the  flesh.  She  told  me  that  she  had  to  endure  this 
pain  for  her  carelessness  in  the  observance  of  her  rules. 
'  My  heart  is  lacerated,'  she  added,  '  and  this  is  the  hard- 
est of  my  pains.  I  suffer  it  for  those  fault-finding  and 
murmuring  thoughts  which  I  entertained  in  my  heart 
against  my  superiors.  My  tongue  is  eaten  up  by  moths, 
and  tormented,  on  account  of  uncharitable  words,  and 
for  having  unnecessarily  spoken  in  the  time  of  silence. 
Would  to  God  that  all  souls  consecrated  to  the  service 
of  the  Lord  could  see  me  in  these  frightful  pains !  Would 
to  God  I  could  show  them  what  punishments  are  inflicted 
upon  those  who  live  negligently  in  their  vocation !  They 
would  indeed  change  their  manner  of  living,  observing 
most  punctually  the  smallest  point  of  their  rules,  and 
guarding  against  those  faults  for  which  I  am  now  so 
much  tormented.'  " 


1.1 


i 


II        i 


ll 


122 


rURGATORY. 


APPEAL    TO    ALL    CLASSES    FOE    THE    SOULS    IN 

PURGATORY. 

BY   A   PAULIST   FATHER. 

"  My  daughter  is  just  now  dead  ;  but  come,  lay  thy  hand  upon  her,  and  she 

shall  live."— St.  Matt.  ix.  i3. 

Sucn  was  the  entreaty  made  by  the  ruler  to  our  Lord 
in  the  Gospel,  and  such  are  the  words  that  the  Lord  says 
to  us  during-  the  month  of  November,  in  behalf  of  the 
poor  souls  in  Purgatory.  These  souls  have  been  saved 
by  the  Precious  Blood,  they  have  been  judged  by  Jesus 
Christ  with  a  favorable  judgment,  they  are  His  spouses. 
His  sons  and  daughters — His  children.  He  cries  to  us  : 
"  My  children  are  even  now  dead ;  but  come,  lay  your 
hands  upon  them,  and  they  shall  live."  What  hand  is 
that  which  our  Lord  wants  us  to  lay  upon  His  dead  chil- 
dren ?  Brethren,  it  is  the  hand  of  prayer.  Now,  it  seems 
to  me  that  there  are  three  classes  of  persons  who  ought 
to  be  in  an  especial  manner  the  friends  of  God's  dead 
children  ;  three  classes  who  ought  always  to  be  extending 
a  helping  hand  to  the  souls  in  Purgatory.  First,  the 
poor,  because  the  holy  souls  are  poor  like  yourselves. 
They  have  no  work — that  is  to  say,  the  day  for  them  is 
past  in  which  they  could  work  and  gain  indulgences  and 
merit,  the  money  with  which  the  debt  of  temporal  pun- 
ishment is  paid  ;  for  them  the  "night  has  come  when  no 
man  can  work."  They  are  willing  to  work,  they  are  will- 
ing to  pay  for  themselves,  but  they  cannot ;  they  are  out 
of  work,  they  are  poor,  they  cannot  help  themselves. 
They  are  suffering,  as  the  poor  suffer  in  this  world  from 
the  heats  of  summer  and  the  frosts  of  winter.  They  have 
no  food ;  they  arc  hungry  and  thirsty ;  they  are  longing 
for  the  sweets  of  heaven.  They  arc  in  exile  ;  they  have 
no  home  ;  they  know  there  is  abundance  of  food  and  rai- 
ment around  them  which  they  cannot  themselves  buy. 
It  seems  to  them  that  the  winter  will  never  pass,  that  the 


^. 


c 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


ilM 


123 


mC*i 


spring  will  nev^cr  come  ;  in  a  word  they  arr  poor.  They 
are  poor  as  many  of  you  arc  poor.  They  are  in  worse 
need  than  the  most  destitute  among  you.  Oh  !  then,  yc 
that  are  poor,  help  the  holy  souls  by  your  prayers.  Sec- 
ondly, the  rich  ought  to  be  the  special  friends  of  those 
who  are  in  Purgatory,  and  among  the  rich  we  wish  to 
include  those  who  are  what  people  call  "  comfortably 
off."  God  has  given  you  charge  of  the  poor  ;  you  can 
help  them  by  your  alms  in  this  world,  so  you  can  in  the 
next.  You  can  have  Masses  said  for  them ;  you  can  say 
lots  of  prayers  for  them,  because  you  have  plenty  of  time 
on  your  hands.  Again  remember,  many  of  those  who 
were  your  equals  in  this  world,  who,  like  yourselves,  had 
a  good  supply  of  this  world's  goods,  have  gone  to  Purga- 
tory because  those  riches  were  a  snare  to  them.  Riches, 
my  dear  friends,  have  sent  many  a  soul  to  the  place  of 
purification.  Oh !  then,  those  of  you  who  are  well  off, 
have  pity  upon  the  poor  souls  in  Purgatory.  Offer  up  a 
good  share  of  your  wealth  to  have  Masses  said  for  them. 
Do  some  act  of  charity,  and  offer  the  merit  of  it  for  some 
soul  who  was  ensnared  by  riches,  and  who  is  now  paying 
the  penalty  in  suffering  ;  and  spend  some  considerable 
portion  of  your  spare  time  in  praying  for  the  souls  of  the 
faithful  departed. 

And  lastly,  sinners  and  those  who  have  been  converted 
from  a  very  sinful  life  ought  to  be  the  friends  of  God's 
dead  children.  Why?  Because,  although  the  souls  in 
Purgatory  cannot  pray  for  themselves,  they  can  pray  for 
others,  and  these  prayers  are  most  acceptable  to  God. 
Because,  too,  they  are  full  of  gratitude,  and  they  will  not 
forget  those  who  helped  them  when  they  shall  come  be- 
fore the  throne  of  God.  Because  sinners,  having  sad- 
dened the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus  by  their  sins,  cannot 
make  a  better  reparation  to  it  than  to  hasten  the  time 
when  He  shall  embrace  these  souls  whom  He  loves  so 
dearly,  and  has  wished  for  so  long.  Because  sinners  have 
almost  always  been  the  means  of  the  sins  of  others.  They 
have,  by  their  bad  example,  sent  others  to  Purgatory. 


124 


PURGATORY. 


Ah !  then,  If  they  have  helped  them  in,  they  should  help 
them  out. 

You,  then,  that  are  poor,  you  that  are  rich,  you  that 
have  been  great  sinners,  listen  to  the  voice  of  Jesus  ;  listen 
to  the  plaint  of  Mary  during  this  month  of  November ; 
"My  children  are  now  dead ;  come  lay  thy  prayers  up 
for  them,  and  they  shall  live."  Hear  Mass  for  the  poor 
souls ;  say  your  beads  for  them ;  supplicate  Jesus  and 
Mary  and  Joseph  in  their  behalf.  Fly  to  St.  Catherine 
of  Genoa  and  beg  her  to  help  them,  and  many  and  many 
a  time  during  the  month  say  with  great  fervor:  "May 
the  souls  of  the  faithful  departed  through  the  mercy  of 
God  rest  in  peace." — Fivc-Minutc  Sermons  for  Lozu  Masses. 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


125 


THE  SOULS  IN  PURGATORY. » 

REV.    F.    n.    WKNINGKR,  S.  J.,  D.  D. 

On  the  Feast  of  All  Souls,  and  whenever  we  are  re- 
minded of  Purgatory,  we  cannot  help  thinking  of  the 
dreadful  pains  which  the  souls  in  Purgatory  have  to 
suffer,  in  order  to  be  purified  from  every  stain  of  sin ;  of 
the  excruciating  torments  they  have  to  undergo  for  their 
faults  and  imperfections,  and  how  thoroughly  they  have 
to  atone  for  the  least  offences  committed  against  the  in- 
finite holiness  and  justice  of  God.  It  is  but  just,  there- 
fore, that  we  should  condole  with  them,  and  do  all  that 
we  can  to  deliver  them  from  the  flames  of  Purgatory,  or, 
at  least,  to  soothe  their  pains.  .  .  .  The  fire  of  Purga- 
tory, as  the  doctors  of  the  Church  declare,  is  as  intense  as 
that  of  the  abode  of  hell ;  with  this  difference,  that  it  has 
an  end.  Yea !  it  may  be  that  to-day  a  soul  in  Purgatory 
is  undergoing  more  agony,  more  excruciating  suffering 
than  a  damned  soul,  which  is  tormented  in  hell  for  a  few 
mortal  sins ;  while  the  poor  soul  in  Purgatory  must  sat- 
isfy for  millions  of  venial  sins. 

All  the  pains  which  afflict  the  sick  upon  earth,  added 
to  all  that  the  martyrs  have  ever  suffered,  cannot  be  com- 
pared with  those  in  Purgatory,  so  great  is  the  punish- 
ment of  those  poor  souls. 

We  read,  how  once  a  sick  person  who  was  very  impa- 
tient in  his  sufferings,  exclaimed  ;  "■  O  God,  take  me  from 
this  world  !  "  Thereupon  the  Angel  Guardian  appeared 
to  him,  and  told  him  to  remember  that,  by  patiently  bear- 
ing his  afflictions  upon  his  sick-bed,  he  could  satisfy  for 
his  sins,  and  shorten  his  Purgatory.  But  the  sick  man 
replied  that  he  chose  rather  to  satisfy  for  his  sins  in  Pur- 
gatory. The  poor  sufferer  died ;  and  behold,  his  Guard- 
ian Angel  appeared  to  him  again,  and  asked  him  if  he  did 

'  From  the  "  OrigiiKiI,  Short  and  Practical  Sermons  for  every  Feast  of 
the  Ecclesiastical  Year." 


;:r  i 


'.  i  -; 


;!  ! 


iU 


'1:,T 


'«TS»l!»«f?»^ 


,  I  :'m 


126 


PURGATORY. 


not  repent  of  the  choice  he  had  made  of  satisfyini^  for  his 
sins  in  I'urgatory,  by  tortures,  rather  than  upon  earth  by 
afflictions.  Thereupon  the  poor  soul  asked  the  angel : 
"  How  many  years  am  I  now  here  in  these  terril)lc 
flames?"  The  Angel  replied  :  **  How  many  years?  Thy 
body  upon  earth  is  not  yet  buried  ;  nay,  it  is  not  yet  cold 
and  still  thou  believest  already  thou  art  here  for  many 
years  !  "  Oh,  how  that  soul  lamented  upon  hearing  this. 
Great  indeed  was  its  grief  for  not  having  chosen  pati- 
ently to  undergo  upon  earth  the  sufferings  of  sickness, 
and  thereby  shorten  its  Purgatory. 

■.^  i<-  v^  ;^  ^^  *  * 

Upon  earth,  persons  who  anxiously  seek  another  abode 
or  another  state  of  life,  often  know  not  whether,  perhaps, 
they  may  not  fall  into  a  more  wretched  condition.  How 
many  have  forsaken  the  shores  of  Europe,  with  the  bright 
hope  of  a  better  future  awaiting  tliem  in  America?  All 
has  been  disappointment !  They  have  repented  a  thou- 
sand times  of  having  deserted  their  native  country.  Now 
does  this  disappointment  await  the  souls  in  Purgatory 
upon  their  deliverance?  Ah  !  by  no  means.  They  /c;io7ij 
too  well  that  when  they  are  released  heaven  will  be  their 
home.  Once  there,  no  more  pains,  no  more  fire  for  them  ; 
but  the  enjoyment  of  an  everlasting  bliss,  which  no  eye 
hath  seen  nor  ear  heard  ;  nor  hath  it  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man  to  conceive.  Such  will  be  their  future  happy 
state.  Oh  !  how  great  is  their  desire  to  be  there  already. 
Another  circumstance  which  especially  intensifies  hope 
in  the  breast  of  man,  is  inte}'course — union  with  those  who 
are  near  and  dear  to  him. 

How  many,  indeed,  have  bid  a  last  farewell  to  Europe, 
where  they  would  have  prospered ;  but  oh,  there  arc 
awaiting  them  in  another  land  their  beloved  ones — those 
who  are  so  dear,  and  in  whose  midst  they  long  to  be  ! 
Oh,  what  a  great  source  of  desire  is  not  this,  for  the  poor 
souls  in  Purgatory  to  go  to  heaven !  In  heaven  they  shall 
find  again  those  whom  they  have  loved  and  cherished 
upon  earth,  but  who  have  already  preceded  them  on  their 


^ 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


127 


way  to  the  heavenly  mansion.  .  .  .  There  is  still 
another  feature,  another  cireumstance  whieh  presents 
itself  in  the  condition  of  the  poor  souls  in  Purgatory  :  I 
mean  the  irresistible  force  or  tendency  with  which  they 
arc  drawn  towards  God ;  their  intense  longing  after  Him, 
their  last  aim  and  end.  .  .  .  Oh,  with  what  intense 
anxiety  and  longing  is  not  a  poor  soul  in  Purgatory  con- 
sumed, to  behold  the  splendor  of  its  Lord  and  Creator! 
But,  also !  with  what  marks  of  gratitude  does  not  every 
soul  whom  we  have  assisted  to  enter  heaven  pray  for  us 
upon  its  entrance ! 

Therefore,  let  us  hasten  to  the  relief  of  the  poor  suffer- 
ing souls  in  Purgatory.  Let  us  help  them  to  the  best  of 
our  power,  so  that  they  may  supplicate  for  us  before  the 
throne  of  the  Most  High ;  that  they  may  remember  us 
when  we,  too,  shall  one  day  be  afflicted  in  that  prison 
house  of  suffering,  and  may  procure  for  us  a  speedy 
release  and  an  early  enjoyment  of  a  blissful  eternity. 

-VV  *  *  -k  -%  -X-  'k 

When  it  will  be  your  turn  one  day  to  dwell  in  those 
flames,  and  be  separated  from  God,  how  happy  will  you 
not  be,  if  others  alleviate  and  shorten  your  pains !  Do  you 
desire  this  assistance  for  your  own  soul  ?  Then  begin  in 
this  life,  while  you  have  time,  to  render  aid  to  the  poor 

souls  in  Purgatory. He  who  does  not 

assist  others,  unto  him  shall  no  mercy  be  shown ;  for  this 
is  what  even-handed  justice  requires.  Hence,  let  us  not 
be  deaf  to  the  pitiful  cries  of  the  departed  ones.     .     . 

.  .  .  What  afflicts  those  poor,  helpless  souls  still 
more,  is  the  circumstance  that,  despite  their  patience  in 
suffering,  they  can  earn  nothing  for  heaven.  With  us, 
however,  such  is  not  the  case.  We,  by  our  patience 
under  affliction,  may  merit  much,  very  much  indeed,  for 

Paradise [   well   remember  a   certain 

sick  person  who  was  sorely  pressed  with  great  sufferings. 
Wishing  to  console  him  in  his  distress,  I  said  :  "  Friend, 
such  severe  pains  will  not  last  long.  You  will  either 
recover  from  your  illness  and  become  well  and  strong 


t: 


128 


PURGATORY. 


ill 


!.'• 


i 


again,  or  God  will  soon  call  you  to  himself."  Thereupon 
the  sick  man,  turning  his  eyes  upon  a  crucifix  which  had 
been  placed  for  him  at  the  foot  of  his  bed,  replied : 
**  Father,  1  desire  no  alleviation  in  my  suffering,  no  relief 
in  my  pains.  1  cheerfully  endure  all  as  long  as  it  is  God's 
good  pleasure,  but  I  hope  that  I  now  undergo  my  Purga- 
tory." Then,  stretcliing  forth  his  hands  towards  his 
crucifix  he  thus  addressed  it,  filled  with  the  most  lively 
ho[)e  in  God's  mercy:  "  Is  it  not  so,  dear  Jesus?  Thou 
wilt  only  take  me  from  my  bed  of  pain  to  receive  me 
straightway  into  heaven  !  " 

■Vc  vt  'A-  Vc  %  Vc  % 

We  find  in  the  lives  of  all  the  saints  a  most  ardent  zeal 
in  the  cause  of  these  poor  afllicted  ones.  For  their  relief 
they  offered  to  God  not  only  prayers,  but  also  Masses, 
penances,  the  most  severe  sicknesses,  and  the  most  pain- 
ful trials,  and  all  this  as  a  recognition  and  a  practical  dis- 
play of  the  belief  which  they  cherished — that  they  who 
have  slept  in  Christ  arc  finally  to  repose  with  him  in 
glory.  .  .  .  Because  all  that  we  perform  for  the  help 
and  delivery  of  the  poor  souls  in  Purgatory,  are  works 
of  Christian  faith  and  piety.  Such  are  prayer,  the  august 
sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  the  reception  of  the  holy  sa- 
craments, alms-deeds,  and  acts  of  penance  and  self- 
denial.     ... 

Remember,  dear  Christians,  that  we,  too,  shall  be  poor, 
helpless,  and  suffering  souls  in  Purgatory,  and  what  shall 
we  carry  with  us  of  all  our  earthly  goods  and  treasures  ? 
Not  a  single  farthing. 

*  V:  *  *  *  *  x- 

We  read,  in  the  life  of  St.  Gertrude,  that  God  once 
allowed  her  to  behold  Purgatory.  And,  lo !  she  saw  a 
soul  that  was  about  issuing  from  Purgatory,  and  Christ, 
who,  followed  by  a  band  of  holy  virgins,  was  approach- 
ing, and  stretching  forth  his  hands  towards  it.  There- 
upon the  soul,  which  was  almost  out  of  Purgator}',  drew 
back,  and  of  its  own  accord  sank  again  into  the  fire. 
''What    dost    thou?"  said    St.   Gertrude    to    the    soul. 


■WM 


■H 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


139 


"  Dost  thou  not  sec  that  Christ  wishes  to  release  thee 
from  thy  terrible  abode  ?  "  To  this  the  soul  repUcd  :  "  () 
Gertrude,  thou  beholdest  me  not  as  I  am.  I  am  not  yet 
immaculate.  There  is  yet  another  stain  upon  me.  I  will 
not  hasten  thus  to  the  arms  of  Jesus." 


?. 


4 


r 


i 


ij 


130 


rURGATORY. 


I 


A  POPXTLAR  VIEW  OF  PURGATORY. 

REV,   J.    J.    MORIARTY,    LL.D. 

Purgatory  is  a  state  of  suffering  for  such  souls  as  have 
left  this  life  in  the  friendship  of  God,  but  who  arc  not 
sufficiently  purified  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven — hav- 
ing to  undergo  some  temporal  punishment  for  their 
lighter  sins  and  imperfections,  or  for  their  grievous  sins, 
the  eternal  guilt  of  which  has  been  remitted.  In  other 
words,  we  believe  that  the  souls  of  all  who  departed  this 
life — not  wicked  enough  to  be  condemned  to  hell,  nor  yet 
pure  enough  to  enjoy  the  Beatific  Vision  of  God — are  sent 
to  a  place  of  purgation,  where,  in  the  crucible  of  suffer- 
ing, the  lighter  stains  of  their  souls  are  thoroughly  re- 
moved, and  they  themselves  are  gradually  prepared  to 
enter  the  Holy  of  Holies — where  nothing  defiled  is  per- 
mitted to  approach. 

*  Vf  *  *  i^  *  * 

There  are  many  venial  faults  which  the  majority  of 

persons  commit,  and  for  which  they  have  little  or  no  sor- 
row— sins  which  do  not  deprive  the  soul  of  God's  friend- 
ship, and  yet  are  displeasing  to  His  infinite  holiness.  For 
all  these  we  must  suffer  either  in  this  life  or  the  next. 
Divine  justice  weighs  everything  in  a  strict  balance,  and 
there  is  no  sin  that  we  commit  but  for  which  we  shall 
have  to  make  due  reparation.  Faults  which  we  deem  of 
little  or  no  account  the  Almighty  will  not  pass  unnoticed 
or  unpunished.  Our  Blessed  Saviour  warns  us  that  even 
for  "  every  idle  word  that  man  shall  say  he  shall  render 
an  account  in  the  day  of  judgment." 

We  know  full  well  that  no  man  will  be  sent  to  hell 
merely  for  an  "  idle  word,"  or  for  any  venial  fault  he  may 
commit ;  consequently  there  must  be  a  place  where  such 
sins  are  punished.  If  they  be  not  satisfied  for  here  upon 
earth  by  suffering,  affliction,  or  voluntary  penance,  there 
must  be  a  place  in  the  other  life  where  proper  satisfaction 


DOCTRIXVL   AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


131 


her  h 


is  to  be  made.  That  phice  cannot,  lie  either  licaven  or 
hell.  It  cannot  be  heaven,  for  no  sullerinj^s,  no  pain,  no 
torment  is  to  be  found  there,  v.liere  "  Ciod  sliall  \vi[)c 
away  all  te;irs  from  their  eyes,  where  death  shall  be  no 
more,  nor  mournin<^  nor  weei>in<;."  It  cannot  be  hell, 
where  only  the  souls  of  those  who  have  died  enemies  of 
God  arc  condemned  to  eternal  misery,  for  "  out  of  hell 
there  is  no  redemption." 

There  must  be,  then,  a  Middle  Place  where  lighter 
faults  are  cleansed  from  the  soul,  and  proper  satisfaction 
is  rendered  for  the  temporal  punishment  that  still  remains 
due.  The  punishment  of  every  one  will  vary  accordinj^ 
to  his  desert. 

v'f  Vt  *  *  -fi  ¥t  * 

Our  Divine  Lord  warns  us  to  make  necessary  repara- 
tion whilst  we  have  the  time  and  opportunity. 

"  Make  an  agreement  with  thy  adversary  quickly  whilst 
thou  art  in  the  way  with  him  ;  lest,  perhaps,  the  adversary 
deliver  thee  to  the  judge,  and  the  judge  deliver  thee  to 
the  officer,  and  thou  be  cast  into  prison.  Amen  I  say  to 
thee,  thou  shalt  not  go  out  from  thence  till  thou  pay  the 
last  farthing."    (St.  Matthew,  v.,  25,  26.) 

This  expresses  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory  most  admi- 
rably. The  Scriptures  always  describe  our  life  as  a  i)il- 
grimage.  We  are  only  on  our  way.  We  have  to  meet 
the  claims  of  Divine  justice  here  before  being  called  to 
the  tribunal  of  the  everlasting  Judge ;  otherwise,  even 
should  we  die  in  His  friendship  and  yet  have  left  these 
claims  not  entirely  satisfied,  wc  shall  be  cast  into  the 
prison  of  Purgatory ;  and  "  Amen,  I  say  unto  thee  that 
thou  shalt  not  go  out  from  thence  until  thou  pay  the  last 
farthing." 

%  -^  ^-  *  *  *  -ij 

Our  Saviour  declares  (St.  Matthew,  xii.  32,)  that  "  who- 
ever shall  speak  a  word  against  the  Son  of  Man,  it  shall 
be  forgiven  him  ;  but  he  that  shall  speak  against  the  Holy 
Ghost,  it  shall  not  be  forgiven  him,  either  in  this  life  or  in 
the  world  to  come  ;  "  which  shows,  as  St.  Augustine  says 


M 


!!     ' 


I 


!  I 


II' 


132 


PURGATORY. 


in  the  twenty-first  book  of  his  work,  "  The  City  of  God," 
that  there  are  some  sins  (venial  of  course)  which  shall  be 
forgiven  in  the  next  world,  and  that,  consequently,  there 
is  a  middle  state,  or  place  of  purgation  in  the  other  life, 
since  no  one  can  enter  heaven  having  any  stain  of  sin, 
and  surely  no  one  can  obtain  forgiveness  in  hell. 

The  testimony  of  St.  Paul  is  very  clear  on  this  point  of 
doctrine :  "  For  no  man  can  lay  anotlier  foundation  but 
that  which  is  laid  ;  which  is  Jesus  Christ.  Now  if  any 
man  build  on  that  foundation,  gold,  silver,  precious  stones, 
wood,  hay,  stubble  :  every  man's  work  shall  be  made 
manifest ;  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  shall  declare  it,  because 
it  shall  be  revealed  iDy  fire  ;  and  the  fire  shall  try  every 
man's  work,  of  what  sort  it  is.  If  any  man's  work  abide, 
which  he  had  built  thereupon,  he  shall  receive  a  reward. 
If  any  man's  work  burn,  he  shall  suffer  loss  ;  but  Jic  him- 
self shall  be  saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire'' 

In  the  First  Epistle  of  St.  Peter  (Chap.  iii.  i8,  19),  we 
learn  that  Christ  "  being  put  to  death,  indeed,  in  the  flesh, 
but  brought  to  hfe  by  the  spirit,  in  which  also  He  came 
and  preached  to  those  spirifo  who  were  in  prison." 

Our  Blessed  Saviour,  immediately  after  death,  descended 
into  that  part  of  hell  called  Limbo,  and,  as  St.  Peter 
informs  us,  "preached  to  the  spirits  v/ho  were  in  prison." 
This  most  certainlv  shows  the  existence  of  a  middle  state. 
The  spirits  to  wdiom  our  Lord  preached  were  certainly 
not  in  the  hell  of  the  damned,  where  His  preaching  could 
not  possibly  bear  any  fruit ;  they  were  not  already  in 
heaven,  where  no  preaching  is  necessary,  since  there  they 
see  God  face  to  face.  Therefore  they  must  have  been  in 
some  middle  state — call  it  by  whatever  name  you  please 
— where  they  were  anxiously  awaiting  their  deliverance 
at  the  liands  of  their  Lord  and  Redeemer. 

Belief  in  Purgatory  is  more  ancient  than  Christianity 
itself.  It  was  the  belief  among  the  Jews  of  old,  and  of 
this  we  have  clear  proof  in  the  Second  Book  of  Macha- 
bees,  xii.,  43.     After  a  great  victory  gained  by  that  valiant 


\ 


'■■^»ir»— ■ — 


BriBaM 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


133 


chieftain,  Judas  Machabeus,  about  two  hundred  years 
before  the  coming  of  Christ,  "  Judas  making  a  gathering, 
he  sent  twelve  thousand  drachmas  of  silver  to  Jerusalem 
for  sacrifice  to  be  offered  for  the  sins  of  the  dead,  thinking 
well  and  justly  concerning  the  resurrection.  .  .  It  is, 
therefore,  a  holy  and  wholesome  thought  to  pray  for  tiie 
dead,  that  they  may  be  loosed  from  their  sins." 

It  is  customary,  even  in  our  days,  in  Jewish  synagogues, 
to  erect  tablets  reminding  those  present  of  the  lately 
deceased,  in  order  that  they  may  remember  them  in  their 
prayers.  Surely,  if  there  did  not  exist  a  place  of  purga- 
tion, no  prayers  nor  sacrifices  would  be  of  any  avail  to  the 
departed.  We  find  the  custom  of  praying,  of  offering  the 
Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  for  their  spiritual  benefit, 
more  especially  on  their  anniversaries,  an  universal  prac- 
tice among  the  primitive  Christians  of  the  Eastern  and 
Western  Churches,  of  the  Greek,  Latin,  and  Oriental 
Rites. 

Even  if  we  did  not  find  strong  warrant,  as  we  do,  in 
the  Scriptures,  the  authority  of  Apostolic  Tradition 
would  be  amply  sufficient  for  us  ;  for,  remember,  wg 
Catholics  hold  the  traditions,  handed  down  from  the 
Apostles,  to  be  of  as  much  weight  as  their  own  writings. 

.  .  Hence  it  is  that  we  have  recourse  to  sacred  tradi- 
tion as  well  as  to  Scripture  for  the  proof  of  our  teaching. 
With  reference,  then,  to  the  doctrine  of  "  Purgatory,"  we 
are  guided  by  the  belief  that  prevailed  among  the  primi- 
tive Christians. 

That  the  custom  of  praying  for  the  dead  was  sanctioned 
by  the  Apostles  themselves,  we  have  the  declaration  of 
St.  John  Chrysostom  :  "  It  was  not  in  vain  instituted  by 
the  Apostles  that  in  the  celebration  of  the  tremendous 
mysteries  a  remembrance  should  be  made  of  the  departed. 
They  knew  that  much  profit  and  advantage  would  be 
thereby  derived." 

Tertullian — the  most  ancient  of  the  Latin  Fathers,  who 
flourished  in  the  age  immediately  following  that  of  the 
Apostles — speaks  of  the  duty  of  a  widow  with  regard  to 


V   n 


» \i 


BHWM 


Li.  1 
MM 


r  '  1 


134 


PURGATORY. 


her  deceased  husband  :  *'  Wherefore  also  does  she  pray 
for  his  soul,  and  begs  for  him,  in  the  interim,  refreshment, 
and  in  the  first  resurrection,  companionship,  and  makes 
offerings  for  him  on  the  anniversary  day  of  his  falling 
asleep  in  the  Lord.  For  unless  she  has  done  these  things, 
she  has  truly  repudiated  him  so  far  as  is  in  her  power." 
All  this  supposes  a  Purgatory. 

"  The  measure  of  the   pain,"  says  St,  Gregory  Nyssa, 

"  is  the  quantity  of  evil  to  be  found  in  each  one 

Being  either  purified  during  the  present  life  by  means  of 
prayer  and  the  pursuit  of  wisdom,  or,  after  departure 
from  this  life,  by  means  of  the  furnace  of  the  fire  of  pur- 
gatory." 

******  4«- 

Not  only  deeply  instructive,  but  also  eminently  consol- 
ing is  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory.  We  need  not  "  mourn 
as  those  who  have  no  hope,"  for  those  nearest  and  dear- 
est who  have  gone  hence  and  departed  this  life  in  the 
friendship  of  God. 

How  beautifully  our  Holy  Mother  the  Church  bridges 
over  the  terrible  chasm  of  the  grave  !  How  faithfully 
and  tenderly  she  comes  to  our  aid  in  the  saddest  of  our 
griefs  and  sorrows !  She  leaves  us  not  to  mourn  uncom- 
forted,  unsustained.  She  chides  us  not  for  shedding 
tears  over  our  dear  lost  ones — a  beloved  parent,  a  darling 
child,  a  loving  brother,  affectionate  sister,  or  deeply-cher- 
ished friend  or  spouse.  She  bids  us  let  our  tears  flow, 
for  our  Saviour  wept  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus. 

She  whispers  words  of  comfort — not  unmeaning  words, 
but  words  of  divine  hope  and  strength — to  our  breaking 
hearts.  She  pours  the  oil  of  heavenly  consolation  into 
our  deepest  wounds.  She  bids  us  cast  off  all  unseemly 
grief,  assuring  us  that  not  even  death  itself  can  sever  the 
bond  that  unites  us ;  that  we  can  be  of  service  to  those 
dear  departed  ones  whom  wc  loved  better  than  life  itself; 
that  we  can  aid  them  by  our  prayers  and  good  works,  and 
especially  by  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  ISIass.  Thus  may 
wc  shorten  their  time  of  banishment,  assuage  their  pains. 


DOCTRINAL  AND   DEVOTIONAL. 


135 


and  continue  to  storm  Heaven  itself  with  our  piteous  ap- 
peals until  the  Lord  deign  to  look  down  in  mercy,  open 
their  prison  doors,  and  admit  them  to  the  full  light  of  His 
holy  presence,  and  to  the  everlasting  embrace  of  their 
Redeemer  and  their  God. 


I 


I 


N  i 


ill 


136 


PURGATORY. 


EXTRACTS   FROM  "CATHOLIC   BELIEF." 

VERY    REV.    FAA    DI    BRUNO.' 

As  works  of  penance  have  no  value  in  themselves  ex- 
cept through  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  so  the  pains  of 
I'urgatory  have  no  pov.xi  in  themselves  to  purify  the 
Soul  from  sin,  but  only  in  virtue  of  Christ's  Redemption, 
or,  to  speak  more  exactly,  the  souls  in  Purgatory  are 
able  to  discharge  the  debt  of  temporal  punishment  de- 
manded by  God's  justice,  and  to  have  their  venial  sins 
remitted  only  through  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  "  yet 
so  as  by  fire." 

The  Catholic  belief  in  Purgatory  rests  on  the  authority 
of  the  Church  and  her  apostolic  traditions  recorded  in 
ancient  Litur^-ies,  and  in  the  writinofs  of  the  ancient 
Fathers :  Tertullian,  St.  Cyprian,  Origcn,  Eusebius  of 
Caesarea,  Arnobius,  St.  Basil,  St.  Ephrcm  of  Edessa,  St. 
Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  St.  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  St.  Ambrose, 
St.  Epiphanius,  St.  John  Chrysostom,  St.  Jerome,  St.  Au- 
gustine. It  rests  also  on  the  Fourth  Council  of  Carthage, 
and  on  many  other  authorities  of  antiquity. 

That  this  tradition  is  derived  from  the  Apostles,  St. 
John  Chrysostom  plainly  testified  in  a  passage  quoted  at 
the  end  of  this  chapter,  in  which  he  speaks  of  suffrages  or 
help  for  the  departed. 

St.  Augustine  tells  us  that  Arius  was  the  first  who 
dared  to  teach  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  offer  up  prayers 
and  sacrifices  for  the  dead  ;  and  this  doctrine  of  Arius  he 
reckoned  among  heresies.      (Book  of  Heresies,  Heresy 

53d.) 
There  are  also  passages  in  Holy  Scripture  from  which 

'  Catholic  Belief ,  or,  A  Short  and  Simple  Exposition  of  Catholic  Doc- 
trine, by  Very  Rev.  Joseph  Faa  Di  Bruno.  0.  D.,  Rector-General  of  the 
Pious  Society  of  Missions  of  the  Church  of  San  Salvatore  in  Onde, 
Ponte  Sisto,  Rome,  and  St.  Peter's  Italian  Church  in  London.  American 
Edition,  edited  by  Father  Lambert,  author  of  Notes  on  Ingcrsoll,  &c. 


^^ 


-mm 


V, 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


^Z7 


the  Fathers  have  confirmed  the  Catholic  belief  on  this 
point. 

St.  Paul,  in  his  first  epistle  tcT  the  Corinthians,  chap, 
iii.  11-15,  writes:  "For  other  foundations  no  one  can 
lay,  but  that  which  is  laid  ;  which  is  Christ  Jesus.  Now, 
if  any  man  build  upon  this  foundation,  gold,  silver,  pre- 
cious stones,  wood,  hay,  stubble  ;  every  man's  work  shall 
be  manifest ;  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  shall  declare  it,  be- 
cause it  shall  be  revealed  in  fire  ;  and  the  fire  shall  try 
every  man's  work  of  what  sort  it  is.  If  any  man's  work 
abide,  which  he  hath  built  thereupon,  he  shall  receive  a 
reward.  If  any  man's  work  burn,  he  shall  suffer  loss ; 
but  he  himself  shall  be  saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire." 

The  ancient  Fathers,  Origen  in  the  third  century,  St. 
Ambrose  and  St.  Jerome  in  the  fourth,  and  St.  Augustine 
in  the  fifth,  have  interpreted  this  text  of  St.  Paul  as  re- 
lating to  venial  sins  committed  by  Christians  which  St. 
Paul  compares  to  "  wood,  hay,  stubble,"  and  thus  with 
this  text  they  confirm  the  Catholic  belief  in  Purgatory, 
well  known  and  believed  in  their  time,  as  it  is  by  Cath- 
olics in  the  present  time.  In  St.  INIatthew  (chap.  v.  25, 
26)  we  read,  "  Be  at  agreement  with  thy  adversary  be- 
times, whilst  thou  art  in  the  way  with  him  ;  lest,  perhaps, 
the  adversary  deliver  thee  to  the  judge,  and  the  judge 
deliver  thee  to  the  officer,  and  thou  be  cast  into  prison. 
Amen,  I  say  to  thee,  thou  shalt  not  go  out  from  thence 
till  thou  repay  the  last  farthing." 

On  this  passage,  St.  Cyprian,  Bishop  of  Carthage,  a 
Father  of  the  third  century,  says:  "  It  is  one  thing  to  be 
cast  into  prison,  and  not  go  out  from  thence  till  the  last 
fiirthing  be  paid,  and  another  to  receive  at  once  the  re- 
ward of  faith  and  virtue  :  one  thing  in  punishment  of  sin 
to  be  purified  by  long-suffering  and  purged  by  long  fire, 
and  another  to  have  expiated  all  sins  of  suffering  (in  this 
life) ;  one  in  fire,  at  the  day  of  Judgment  to  wait  the  sen- 
tence of  the  Lord,  another  to  receive  an  immediate  crown 
from  Him.     (Epist.  iii.) 

Our  Saviour  said :   "  lie  that  shall  speak  against  the 


■ 

'  ■ 

n 

1 

i 

Wt^ 

jH 

•    m^ 

II 

-'  '  ll 

IE 

Jjl 

|B 

fli 

Y 

1 

1 

\   W 

i 

I 


! 


I 


f  I 

•if  I 

m 


I' 


138 


PURGATORY. 


Holy  Ghost,  it  shall  not  be  for<^iven  him  in  this  world, 
nor  in  the  world  to  come."   (St.  Matt.  xii.  32.) 

From  this  text  St.  Augustine  argues,  that  "  It  would 
not  have  been  said  with  truth  that  their  sin  shall  not  be 
forgiven,  neither  in  this  world,  nor  in  the  world  to  come, 
unless  some  sins  were  remitted  in  the  next  world.  {Dc 
Civitatc  Dei,  Book  xxi.  chap.  24.) 

On  the  other  hand,  we  read  in  several  places  in  Holy 
Scripture  that  God  will  render  to  every  one  (that  is,  will 
reward  or  punish)  according  as  each  deserves.  See,  for 
example,  in  JNIatthew  xvi.  27.  But  as  we  cannot  think 
that  God  will  punish  everlastingly  a  person  who  dies 
burdened  with  the  guilt  of  venial  sin  only,  it  may  be  an 
"  idle  zi'o?'d,"  it  is  reasonable  to  infer  that  the  punishment 
rendered  to  that  person  in  the  next  world  will  be  only 
temporary. 

The  Catholic  belief  in  Purgatory  does  not  clash  with 
the  following  declarations  of  Holy  Scripture,  which  every 
Catholic  firmly  believes,  namely,  that  it  is  Jesus  who 
cleanseth  us  from  all  sin,  that  Jesus  bore  *'  the  iniquity  of 
us  all,"  that  "  by  His  bruises  we  are  healed,"  (Isaias  iii., 
5);  for  it  is  through  the  blood  of  Jesus  and  His  copious 
Redemption  that  those  pains  of  Purgatory  have  power  to 
'^ansc  the  souls  therein  detained. 

.Again,  the  Catholic  belief  in  Purgatory  is  not  in  oppo- 
sition to  those  texts  of  Scripture  in  which  it  is  said  that  a 
man  when  he  is  justified  is  "  translated  from  death  to 
life  ;  "  that  he  is  no  longer  judged  :  that  there  is  no  con- 
demnation in  him.  For  these  passages  do  not  refer  to 
souls  taken  to  Heaven  when  natural  death  occurs,  but  to 
persons  in  this  world,  who  from  the  death  of  sin  pass  to 
the  life  of  grace.  Nor  does  it  follow  that  dying  in  that 
state  of  grace,  that  is,  in  a  state  of  spiritual  life,  they  must 
go  at  once  to  Heaven.  A  soul  may  be  justified,  entirely 
exempt  from  eternal  condemnation,  and  yet  have  some- 
thing to  suffer  for  a  time ;  thus,  also,  in  this  world,  many 
are  justified,  and  yet  are  not  exempt  from  suffering. 

Again,  it  is  not  fair  to  bring  forward  against  the  Cath- 


o 


;'-Jji:'i^a.>^.i;UiM,d^<giS3^ 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


139 


olic  doctrine  on  Purgatory  that  text  of  the  Apocalypse, 
Rev.  xix.  13  :  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord. 
From  henceforth  now,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest 
from  their  labors:  for  their  works  follow  them,"  for  this 
text  applies  only  to  those  souls  who  die  perfectly  in  the 
Lord,  that  is,  entirely  free  from  every  kind  of  sin,  and 
from  the  staiH,  the  guilty  and  the  debt  of  temporal punisJi- 
vicnt  of  every  sin.  Catholics  believe  that  these  souls  have 
no  pain  to  suffer  in  Puri^atory,  as  is  the  case  with  the 
martyrs  and  saints  who  die  in  a  perfect  state  of  grace. 

It  is  usual  to  bring  forward  against  the  Catholic  belief 
in  Purgatory  that  text  which  says:  "  If  the  tree  fall  to  the 
south,  or  to  the  north,  in  what  place  soever  it  shall  fall, 
there  shall  it  be.    (Eccles.  xi.  3.) 

This  text  confirms  and  illustrates  the  truth  that,  when 
death  comes,  \\\q.  final  doom  of  every  one  is  fixed,  and  that 
there  is  no  possibility  of  changing  it ;  so  that  one  dying 
in  a  state  of  mortal  sin  will  always  remain  in  a  state  of 
mortal  sin,  and  consequently  be  rejected  forever  ;  and  one 
dying  in  a  state  of  grace  and  friendship  with  God,  will 
forever  remain  accepted  by  God  and  in  a  state  of  grace, 
and  in  friendship  with  Him. 

But  this  text  proves  nothing  against  the  existence  of 
Purgatory  ;  for  a  soul,  although  in  a  state  of  grace,  and 
destined  to  heaven,  may  still  have  to  suffer  for  a  time 
before  being  perfectly  fit  to  enter  upon  the  eternal  bliss, 
to  enjoy  the  vision  of  God. 

Some  might  be  disposed,  notwithstanding,  to  regard 
this  text  as  opposed  to  the  Catholic  doctrine  of  Purgatory 
by  saying  that  the  two  places  alluded  to  in  the  texts  are 
heaven  and  hell.  But  this  interpretation  Catholics  readily 
admit,  for  at  death  either  heaven  or  hell  is  the  final  place 
to  which  all  men  are  allotted.  Purgatory  being  only  a  pas- 
sage to  heaven.  This  text  surely  does  not  tell  against  those 
just  ones  under  the  Old  Law  who  died  in  a  state  of  grace 
and  salvation,  and  who,  though  sure  of  heaven,  had  yet  to 
wait  in  a  middle  state  until  after  the  Ascension  of  Jesus 
Christ  ;  neither,  therefore,  does  it  tell  against  Purgatory. 


:    I 


140 


PURGATORY. 


Christ's  Redemption  is  abundant,  ^'plentiful,''  as  Moly 
Scripture  says  (Ps.  cxxix.  7),  and  Catholics  do  not  believe 
that  those  Christians  who  die  guilty  only  of  venial  sins 
unrcpcnted  of  and  unforg-iven,  are  condemned  to  the  ever- 
lasting pains  of  hell,  as  Protestants  must  believe,  if  con- 
sistent with  their  principles.  Catholics  believe  that  for 
such  there  is  still  a  way,  although  painful,  of  being  cleansed 
from  these  lesser  faults  after  this  life,  through  the  merits  of 
Jesus  Christ.  And  this  is  Purgatory,  where  they  can  be 
purified  like  gold  in  a  fire,  and  made  fit  to  enter  into  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem,  where  "  there  shall  not  enter  any- 
thing defiled  "  (Apoc.  xxi.  27) ;  or,  to  use  the  language  of 
St.  Paul,  '*  he  himself  shall  be  saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire"  (i 
Cor.  iii.  5). 

Catholics  also  believe  that  the  souls  in  Purgatory  con- 
tinue to  be  members  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  and  that 
they  are  relieved  by  the  sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  by  prayer 
and  pious  works  and  alms-deeds ;  these  and  other  helps 
arc  called  suffrages  because  they  are  applied  to  them  by 
the  Faithful  here  on  earth,  with  the  intention  of  helping 
them.     Indulgences  may  also  be  applied  to  them. 

The  living  can  pray  for  each  other  efficaciously.  St. 
James  the  Apostle  says:  "  Pray  for  one  another,  that  you 
may  be  saved"  (v.  16).  Why,  then,  should  we  not  be 
able  to  pray  also  with  efficacy  for  the  departed,  especially 
since  the  souls  in  Purgatory  quitted  this  life  in  the  state 
of  grace  and  love  which,  according  to  St.  Paul,  "  never 
falleth  away"  (i  Cor.  xiii.  8).  If  death  does  not  break 
their  ties  of  love  towards  us,  the  same  should  not  sever 
our  bonds  of  love  towards  them,  nor  prevent  us  doing 
what  we  can  in  their  behalf.  The  Jews  retain  in  their 
Liturgy  to  this  day  the  pious  practice  of  praying  for  the 
departed. 

The  Catholic  beb'ef  is  comprised  in  those  words  of  the 
Apostles'  Creed  :  "  I  believe  in  the  Communion  of  Saints." 
The  natural  meaning  of  th^'s  declaration  being  that  we  are 
in  a  communion  of  prayers  with  the  Saints,  whether  in 
heaven,  in  Purgatory,  or  on  earth.     It  has  always  been 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


141 


<(! 


the  practice  of  the  Catholic  Church  to  offer  prayers  and 
other  pious  works  in  suffrage  for  the  dead,  as  is  am})ly 
testified  l)y  the  Latin  Fathers ;  for  instance,  TertulUan, 
wSt.  Cyprian,  St.  Augustine,  St.  Gregory  ;  and  amongst 
the  Greek  Fathers,  by  St.  Ephrcm  of  Edessa,  St.  Basil 
and  St.  John  Chrysostom.  St.  Chrysostom  says :  **  It  was 
not  without  good  reason  ordained  by  the  Apostles  that 
mention  should  be  made  of  the  dead  in  the  tremendous 
mysteries,  because  they  knew  well  that^  these  would  re- 
ceive great  benefit  from  it "  (on  the  First  Epistle  to  Philip- 
pians,  Homily  iii.)  By  the  expression  '*  tremendous  mys- 
teries," is  meant  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass. 

St.  Augustine  says  :  "  It  is  not  to  be  doubted  that  the 
dead  arc  aided  by  the  prayers  of  Holy  Church  and  by 
the  salutary  sacrifice,  and  by  the  alms  which  are  offered 
for  their  spirits,  that  the  Lord  may  deal  with  them  more 
mercifully  than  their  sins  have  deserved.  For  this,  which 
has  been  handed  down  by  the  Fathers,  the  universal 
Church  observes.     {Rnchirid,  Vol.  v.,  Ser.  172.) 

The  same  pious  custom  is  proved  also  from  the  ancient 
Liturgies  of  the  Greek  and  other  Eastern  Churches,  both 
Catholic  and  Schismatic,  in  which  the  Priest  is  directed 
to  pray  for  the  repose  of  the  dead  during  the  celebration 
of  the  Holy  Mysteries. 


I 
I 


C;^,-.n»S.fe»-.-.-.-t>.^.g--r-.-A.-.-^  ,7i-C.C  -.!■ : 


ii«Oi«<#iK'iM«l«*«.  > 


1 


142 


PURGATORY. 


PURGATORY  AND  THE  FEAST  OF  ALL  SOULS. 


ALBAN  nUTLER. 


By  Puri^atory  no  more  is   meant  by  Catholics  than  a 
middle  state  of  souls;  namely  of  purgation  from  sin  by 
temporary  chastisements,  or  a  ])iinisiiment  of  some  sin  in- 
flicted after  death,  which  is  not  eternal.     As  to  the  place, 
manner  or  kind  of  these  sufferinofs  nothinc:  has  been  dc- 
fined  by  the  Church  ;  and  all  who  with  Dr.  Deacon  except 
against  this  doctrine,  on  account  of  the  circumstance  of  a 
material  fire,  quarrel  about  a  mere  scholastic  question,  in 
which  a  person  is  at  liberty  to  choose  either  side.     .     .     . 
Certainly  some  sins  are  venial,  which  deserve  not  eternal 
death.     Yet  if  not  effaced  by  condign  punishment  in  this 
world  must  be  punished  in  the  next.     The  Scriptures  fre- 
quently mention  those  venial  sins,  from  which  ordinarily 
the  just  are  not  exempt,  who  certainly  would  not  be  just 
if  these  lesser  sins  into  which  men  easily  fall  by  surprise, 
destroyed   grace   in    tlicm,  or   if  they  fell  from   charity. 
Yet  the  smallest  sin  excludes  a  soul  from  heaven  so  long 
as  it  is  not  blotted  out.     .     .     .     Who  is  there  who  keeps 
so  constant  a  guard  upon  his  heart  and  whole  conduct  as 
to  avoid  all  sensible  self-deceptions?     Who  is  there  upon 
whose  heart  no  inordinate  attachments  steal ;  into  whose 
actions  no  sloth,  remissness,  or  other  irregularity  ever  in- 
sinuates  itself?     .     .     .     The   Blessed   Virgin  was   pre- 
served by  an  extraordinary  grace  from  the  least  sin  in  the 
whole  tenor  of  her  life  and  actions ;  but,  without  such  a 
singular  privilege,  even  the  saints  are  obliged  to  say  that 
they  sin  daily.     .     .     .     The  Church   of  Christ   is    com- 
posed of  three  different  parts  :  the  Triumphant  in  Heaven, 
the   Militant   on   earth,  and  the   Patient  or  Suffering  in 
Purgatory.     Our  charity  embraces   all  the   members   of 
Christ.     .     .     .     The   Communion   of  Saints    which   we 
profess  in  our  Creed,  implies  a  communication  of  certain 
good  works  and  offices,  and  a  mutual  intercourse  among 


\-> 


.  I 


DOCTRINAL  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


143 


all  the  members  of  Clirist.  This  wc  maintain  with  tic 
Saints  in  heaven  by  thankinf^  and  i)raisinj^  God  for  their 
triunii)hs  and  crowns,  imploring  their  intercession,  and 
receiving-  the  succors  of  their  charitable  solicitude  f<tr  us  : 
likewise  with  the  souls  in  Purti^atory  by  solicitinij;'  the 
divine  mercy  in  their  favor.  Nor  does  it  seem  to  be 
doubted  but  they,  as  they  arc  in  a  state  of  p^race  and 
charity,  pray  for  us;  though  the  Churcli  never  address 
public  suffrages  to  them,  not  being  warranted  by  primi- 
tive practice  and  tradition  so  to  do. 

.  .  .  .  St.  Odilo,  abbot  of  Cluni,  in  99S,  instituted 
the  commemoi'ation  of  all  the  faithful  departed  in  all  the 
monasteries  of  his  congregation  on  the  ist  of  November, 
which  was  soon  adopted  by  the  whole  Western  Ciuirch. 
The  Council  of  Oxford,  in  1222,  declared  it  a  holiday  of 
the  second  class,  on  which  certain  necessary  and  im})()r- 
tant  kinds  of  work  were  allowed.  Some  dioceses  kept  it  a 
holiday  of  precept  till  noon ;  only  those  of  Viennc  and 
Tours,  and  the  order  of  Cluni,  the  whole  day :  in  most 
places  it  is  only  a  day  of  devotion.  The  Greeks  have 
long  kept  on  wSaturday  sevennight  before  Lent,  and  on 
Saturday  before  Whitsunday,  the  solemn  commemoration 
of  all  the  faithful  departed;  but  offer  up  Mass  every 
Saturday  for  them.  .  .  .  The  dignity  of  these  souls 
most  strongly  recommends  them  to  our  compassion,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  our  veneration.  Though  they  lie  at 
present  at  a  distance  from  God,  buried  in  frightful  dun- 
geons under  waves  of  fire,  they  belong  to  the  happy 
number  of  the  elect.  They  are  united  to  God  by  His 
grace  ;  they  love  Him  above  all  things,  and  amidst  their 
torments  never  cease  to  bless  and  praise  Him,  adoring 
the  severity  of  His  justice  with  perfect  resignation  and 
love.  .  .  .  They  are  illustrious  conquerors  of  the 
devil,  the  world  and  hell ;  holy  spirits  loaded  with  merits 
and  graces,  and  bearing  the  precious  badge  of  their  dig- 
nity and  honor  by  the  nuptial  robe  of  the  Lamb  with 
which  by  an  indefeasible  right  they  are  clothed.  Yet 
they  are  now  in  a  state  of  suffering,  and  endure  greater 


ii " 


I  111 


!i 


M4 


rURCJATORY. 


« 


torments  than  it  is  possible  for  any  one  to  suffer,  or  for 
our  iniai^ination  to  represent  to  itself  in  this  mortal 
life.  .  .  .  St.  Ciusarius  of  Aries  writes:  "A  person," 
says  he,  "  may  say,  I  am  not  mueh  concerned  how  lonjj;'  I 
remain  in  Purf^atory,  provided  1  may  come  to  eternal 
life.  Let  no  one  reason  thus,  i^irji^atory  lire  will  he  more 
dreadful  than  whatever  torments  can  be  seen,  imaj^ined, 
or  endured  in  this  world.  And  how  does  any  one  know 
whether  he  will  stay  days,  months,  or  years?  He  who  is 
afraid  now  to  put  his  finger  into  the  fire,  does  he  not 
fear  lest  he  be  then  all  buried  in  torments  for  a  lonj^ 
time.  .  .  .  The  Church  approves  perpetual  anniver- 
saries for  the  dead  ;  for  some  souls  may  be  detained  in 
pains  to  the  end  of  the  world,  though  after  the  day  of 
judgment  no  third  state  can  exist.  ...  If  we  have 
lost  any  dear  friends  in  Christ,  while  we  confide  in  His 
mercy,  and  rejoice  in  their  passage  from  the  region  of 
death  to  that  of  life,  light,  and  eternal  joy,  we  have  reason 
to  fear  some  lesser  stains  may  retard  their  bliss.  In  this 
uncertainty  let  us  earnestly  recommend  them  to  the 
divine  clemency.  .  .  .  Perhaps,  the  souls  of  some 
dear  friends  may  be  suffering  on  our  account ;  perhaps, 
for  their  fondness  for  us,  or  for  sins  of  which  we  were  the 
occasion,  by  scandal,  provocation,  or  otherwise,  in  which 
case  motives  not  only  of  charity,  but  of  justice,  call  upon 
U3  to  endeavor  to  procure  them  all  the  relief  in  our 
power.  .  .  .  Souls  delivered  and  brought  to  glory 
b}^  our  endeavors  will  amply  repay  our  kindness  by  ob- 
taining divine  graces  for  us.  God  Himself  will  be  in- 
clined by  our  charity  to  show  us  also  mercy,  and  to 
shower  down  upon  us  His  most  precious  favors.  "Blessed 
are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy."  By  hav- 
ing shown  this  mercy  to  the  suffering  souls  in  Purgatory, 
we  shall  be  particularly  entitled  to  be  treated  with  mercy 
at  our  departure  hence,  and  to  share  more  abundantly  in 
the  general  suffrages  of  the  Church,  continually  offered 
for  all  that  have  slept  in  Christ. 


.? 


PART   II. 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS, 


We  know  them  not,  nor- hear  the  sound 
They  make  in  treading  all  around : 
Their  office  sweet  and  mighty  prayer 
Float  without  echo  through  the  air; 
Yet  sometimes,  in  unworldly  places, 

Soft  sorrow's  twilight  vales, 
We  meet  them  with  uncovered  faces, 

Outside  their  golden  pales, 
Though  dim,  as  they  must  ever  be, 
Like  ships  far-off  and  out  at  sea. 

With  the  sun  upon  their  sails. 

—  Fabrr. 


' 


k 

f 

■    i 

i 

I 


« I 


f 

1 

I 


h 


It  i 

i  .I'l 


L 


I  I 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


THE    FRUIT    OF    A    MASS. 


The  incident  we  are  about  to  relate  and  which,  in  some 
way,  only  the  price  of  the  first  Mass  paid  for,  reminds  us 
of  another  which  seems  to  be  also  the  fruit  of  a  single 
Mass  given  under  the  inspiration  of  faith.  This  fact  is 
found  in  the  life  of  St.  Peter  Damian,  and  we  are  happy 
to  reproduce  it  here,  in  order  to  tell  over  again  the  mar- 
vels of  God  in  those  He  loves,  and  to  make  manifest  that 
charity  for  ^!  e  poor  souls  brings  ever  and  always  its  own 
reward. 

Peter,  surnamed  Damian,  was  born  in  988,  at  Ravenna, 
in  Italy.  His  family  was  poor,  and  he  was  the  youngest 
of  several  children.  He  lost  his  father  and  mother  while 
still  Ycry  young,  and  was  taken  by  one  of  his  brothers  to 
his  home.  But  Damian  was  treated  there  in  a  very  in- 
human manner.  He  was  regarded  rather  as  a  slave,  or, 
at  least,  as  a  base  menial,  than  as  the  brother  of  the  master 
of  the  house.  He  was  deprived  of  the  very  necessaries  of 
life,  and,  after  being  made  to  work  like  a  hired  servant, 
he  was  loaded  with  blows.  When  he  was  older,  they 
gave  him  charge  of  the  swine. 

Nevertheless,  Peter  Damian,  being  endowed  with  rare 
virtue,  received  all  with  patience  as  coming  from  God. 
This  sweet  resignation  on  the  part  of  a  child  was  most 
pleasing  to  the  Lord,  and  He  rewarded  him  by  inspiring 
him  to  a  good  action. 

One  day  the  little  Damian,  leading  his  flocks  to  the  pas- 
ture, found  on  the  way  a  small  piece  of  money.  Oh  !  how 
rejoiced  he  was !     How  his  heart  swelled  within  him ! 


148 


rURGATORY. 


II 


. 


I 
ii 

If 


il 


Ii 


He  clapped  his  hands  joyfully,  thJnking  himself  quite 
rich,  and  already  he  began  to  calculate  all  he  could  do 
with  his  money.  Suggestions  were  not  wanting,  for  he 
was  in  need  of  everything. 

Nevertheless,  the  noble  child  took  time  to  reflect ;  a 
sudden  shadow  fell  on  the  fair  heaven  of  his  happy 
thoughts.  He  all  at  once  remembered  that  his  father,  his 
poor  mother  who  had  so  loved  hiir.,  might  be  still  suffer- 
ing cruel  torments  in  the  place  of  expiation.  And  de- 
spising his  own  great  necessities,  and  generously  making 
the  sacrifice  of  what  was  for  him  a  treasure,  Damian, 
raised  above  himself  and  his  wants  by  the  thought  of  his 
beloved  parents,  brought  his  money  to  a  priest,  to  have 
the  Holy  Sacrifice  offered  for  them. 

That  generous  child  had  obeyed  a  holy  inspiration,  and 
this  good  deed  of  his  was  quickly  rewarded.  Fortune 
suddenly  changed  with  him.  He  was  taken  by  another  of 
his  brothers,  who  took  all  possible  care  of  him.  Seeing 
that  the  child  had  such  excellent  dispositions,  he  made  him 
begin  to  study.  He  sent  him  first  to  Florence,  then  to 
a  famous  school  in  Parma,  where  he  had  for  his  master 
the  celebrated  Ivo.  The  brilliant  qualities  of  Damian 
were  rapidly  developed,  and  soon  he  became  professor 
where  he  had  been  a  pupil.  He  afterwards  gave  up  the 
world  and  became  a  religious,  and  was,  in  course  of  time, 
not  only  a  remarkable  man,  but  a  great  saint.  He  was 
charged  by  the  Holy  wSee  with  affairs  the  most  important, 
and  died  clothed  in  the  Roman  purple.  He  is  still  a  great 
light  in  the  Church,  and  his  writings  are  always  full  of 
piety  and  erudition. 

The  little  Damian,  then,  might  well  think  that  he  pos- 
sessed a  treasure  in  his  little  coin,  since  with  it  he  pur- 
chased earthly  honors  and  heavenly  bliss.  We  all  of  us 
have  often  had  in  our  hand  Damian's  little  piece  of 
money,  but  have  we  known  how  to  make  a  treasure  of  it? 

Alumnae  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory,  1877. 


It 


^ 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


149 


a 


'-4 


THE    FAITH    OF    A    PIOUS    LADY. 

"  In  the  course  of  the  month  of  July  of  last  year,"  said 
a  zealous  member  of  our  Association  for  the  Souls  in 
Purgatory,"  I  was  accosted  by  one  of  our  associates  who 
told  me,  with  an  exuberance  of  joy,  '  Ah !  we  have  great 


reason  to  thank  the  souls  in  Purgatory  ;  I 


beg 


you  to 


unite  with  us  in  thanking  them  for  the  favor  they  have 
just  done  us.'  *  Indeed  ?  Well !  I  am  very  happy  to  hear 
it.  Has  anything  extraordinary  happened  to  you  ?  Tell 
me,  if  you  please,  what  seems  to  cause  you  so  much  joy  ? ' 

"  Then  our  fervent  associate — a  young  man  of  a  mild 
and  pleasing  aspect,  usually  somewhat  reserved,  but  of 
gentlemanly  bearing — said,  in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion  : 

"  *  I  am  rejoiced  to  tell  you,  in  the  first  place,  that  I 
have  the  happiness  of  still  having  my  good  mother.  God 
seems  to  leav  -  her  on  the  earth  to  complete  the  work  of 
her  purificat'':  -ft-  she  is  always  sick  and  sutTering,  and, 
as  she  says  he  '',  there  is  neither  rest  nor  peace  for  her 
here  below  ;  nevertheless,  she  resigns  herself  so  patiently 
to  the  sufferings  and  tribulations  which  weigh  so  heavily 
upon  her  that  it  does  me  a  twofold  good  every  time  I  see 
her,  for  I  love  her  as  my  mother,  I  venerate  her  as  a 
saint. 

**  *  One  day,  then,  last  week,  finding  herself  a  little 
stronger,  she  thought  she  would  take  a  short  drive,  being 
in  the  country  for  her  health.  The  drive  seemed  really 
to  do  her  good  ;  the  beauty  of  the  country,  and  still  more, 
the  fresh,  pure  air,  appeared  to  revive  her,  and  altogether 
she  enjoyed  her  drive  immensely.  Her  heart,  as  well  as 
her  mind,  was  changed,  for  you  know  there  is  often  a 
sickness  of  the  head,  as  of  the  body.  She  already  began 
to  flatter  herself  with  the  hope  of  a  speedy  recovery, 
when,  in  the  midst  of  the  drive  which  was  having  so 
beneficial  an  effect,  the  horse,  from  some  unknown  cause, 
suddenly  took  fright,  and,  taking  the  bit  between  his 
teeth,  started  off  at  a  fearful  pace. 


I50 


PURGATORY. 


y 


i 


)  t\ 


"  '  Imagine  the  terror  of  my  poor  mother !  On  either 
side  the  road  was  a  broad,  deep  ditch,  and  the  rough,  un- 
even soil  caused  the  carriage  to  ;  ^\t  fearfully,  which  was 
another  great  danger;  and,  as  it  so  often  happens  in  the 
country,  the  road  was  deserted,  and  no  one  to  be  seen 
who  might  give  any  assistance. 

"  *  To  crown  all,  it  happened  that  the  servant  who  drove 
my  mother,  in  his  efforts  to  restrain  the  horse  in  his  head- 
long flight,  had  the  misfortune  to  break  the  reins,  which 
were  their  only  chance  of  guiding  the  animal  in  his  mad 
career. 

"  '  Ah  !  how  can  I  describe  the  feelings  of  my  poor  dear 
mother,  already  so  sick  and  so  feeble ;  in  fact,  she  Avas 
almost  dead  with  fright.  She  thought  every  moment  that 
she  was  going  to  be  thrown  into  the  ditch,  or  dashed 
against  the  stake  paling  which  bordered  the  road  on 
either  side.  She  was  nearly  in  despair,  when  all  at  once 
the  thought  occurred  to  her  to  promise  a  Mass  for  the 
Souls  in  Purgatory,  if  the  horse  stopped. 

"  '  And  what  do  you  think  ? — Ah  !  I  am  still  so  agitated 
myself,  that  I  can  hardly  tell  it ! — But,  wonderful  to  relate, 
that  horse,  in  the  wild  excitement  of  his  flight,  without  so 
much  as  a  thread  to  restrain  him,  who  could  not  have  been 
stopped  by  any  natural  cause  whatsoever, — that  horse 
stopped  immediately,  and  one  might  say,  suddenly,  as 
though  a  barrier  were  placed  before  him ! 

"  *  It  were  utterly  impossible  to  express  my  mother's 
joy  and  gratitude.  Her  life  will  henceforth  be  but  one 
long  act  of  thanksgiving ;  for,  without  that  unlooked-for 
help  it  had  certainly  been  all  over  with  her.  Oh,  I  be- 
seech you  help  me  to  thank  Heaven  for  so  great  a 
favor.' " 

This  example  will  serve  to  show  still  more  clearly  that 
God  is  pleased  to  manifest  His  power,  even  for  the  slight- 
est service  rendered  to  those  whom  He  deigns  to  call  His 
"  Beloved  "  of  Purgatory. — Almatiac  of  the  Souls  in  Purga- 
tory.   1877. 


^ 


i 


w 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


151 


in- 

las 

he 

m 


^ 


PAY  WHAT  THOU  OWEST. 

When  the  fathers  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  first  estab- 
lished their  order  in  Kentucky,  a  wealthy  and  respected 
Catholic  citizen  of  Bardstown,  Mr.  S ,  sought  admis- 
sion among  them, — although  his  age  and  lack  of  a  thor- 
ough preparatory  education  offered  obstacles  to  his  suc- 
cess. He  entered  the  Novitiate,  only  to  be  convinced 
that  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  become  a  priest,  as  had 
been  prudently  represented  to  him  at  the  outset.  How- 
ever, his  love  for  the  Society  had  been  strengthened  by 
his  short  stay  in  the  sanctuary  of  the  community,  and 
he  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  the  service  of  the  Fathers 
in  another  way.  He  determined  to  secure  a  suitable  res- 
idence, and  found  a  college,  which,  as  soon  as  it  was  in  a 
flourishing  condition,  he  would  turn  over  to  the  Society. 

With  this  object  in  view,  Mr.  S made  dihgent  in- 
quiries, and  advertised  in  various  county  newspapers  for 
a  suitable  residence  in  which  to  begin  his  good  work. 
One  of  his  advertisements  received  a  prompt  reply  from 
the  executors  of  an  estate  in  C County.  The  prop- 
erty offered  for  sale  was  unencumbered,  its  broad  lands 
under   high    cultivation,   the    mansion  in    good    repair, 

etc.     Accompanied  by  a  friend,  Mr.  S hastened  to 

visit  the  plantation.  He  found  one  v/ing  of  the  house  oc- 
cupied by  the  overseer  ard  his  family,  and  observed  with 
pleasure  that  the  advertisement  seemed  not  to  have  ex- 
aggerated the  value  of  the  estate. 

Mr  S and  his  friend  tarried  over  night,  and  were 

assigned  separate  apartments,  which  the  administrators 
had  ordered  to  be  kept  in  readiness  for  the  reception  of 
prospective  purchasers.  Although  greatly  fatigued  by  a 
long  ride  on  horseback  over  ill-kept  roads,  neither  of  the 
gentlemen  could  sleep,  on  account  of  a  wearisome,  inces- 
sant knocking  in  an  adjoining  room.  Each  believing  the 
other  to  be  sound  asleep,  forbore  to  awake  his  tired  com- 


I 


;  I 


ni 


w 


M 


' 


l\ 


152 


PURGATORY. 


panion,  but  when  they  met  at  an  early  breakfast,  they 
both,  as  in  one  breath,  inquired  of  the  farmer's  wife  the 
cause  of  the  continuous  tapping  in  the  adjoining  apart- 
ment.    Mrs.  F exchanged  a  significant  glance  with 

her  husband,  and  a  sort  of  grim  smile  overspread  the  face 
of  the  latter.  After  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  declared 
that  he  and  his  wife,  and  the  servants  on  the  estate,  had 
in  vain  tried  to  find  out  the  cause.  All  who  slept  in  those 
two  rooms  heard  the  noise,  and  could  not  sleep.  Both 
husband  and  wife  assured  their  guests  that  the  knocking 
took   place   in   the   apartment   always  occupied,  during 

her  lifetime,  by  Mrs.  G ,  the  late  owner  of  the  estate ; 

furthermore,  that  the  disturbance  was  unknown  before 
her  death.  Mr.  S and  his  companion  naturally  be- 
came more  and  more  interested,  and  after  suggesting  all 
the  ordinary  causes  of  unusual  and  mysterious  knocks, 
such  as  rats,  cats,  chip-munks,  creaking   doors,  broken 

shutters,  and  the  like,  rode  off  with  Mr.  F to  make  a 

thorough  examination  of  the  estate. 

The  two  gentlemen  rode  all  over  the  plantation,  con- 
ferred with  the  executors  and  some  lawyers,  and  after  in- 
specting the  house  thoroughly,  sat  down  to  a  dinner  that 
was  highly  creditable  to  the  hostess,  who  seemed  anxious 
concerning  the  disclosures  of  the  morning.  When  night 
came  on,  tlie  visitors  were  shown  to  the  same  rooms  they 
had  previously  occupied.  In  the  morning  each  spoke 
again  of  his  inability  to  get  any  refreshing  sleep,  and  as 

they  rode  back  to  B ,  talking  over  dreams,  visions, 

and  other  supernatural  occurrences,  they  asked  them- 
selves, might  not  this  knocking  have  a  supernatural 
cause?  Concluding  it  might  have,  they  considered  it 
would  be  well  to  lay  the  case  before  the  Rev.  Father 
O ;  at  least,  they  could  go  and  tell  him  of  their  jour- 
ney into  C County,  and  also  of  the  mysterious  knock- 
ing, if  it  seemed  to  come  in  naturally;  for  each  felt  a  little 
dread  of  beins:  lausrhed  at  as  too  credulous.  In  the 
course  of  their  conversation  with  the  Father,  the  full  de- 
tails of  what  they  had  learned  and  had  personally  experi- 


I 


\i 


t« 


f 


1 


ANECDOTES  AND    INCIDENTS. 


153 


enced  were  related.     Father  O- 


-  seemed  to  consider 
the  occurrence  quite  easily  accounted  for  by  some  phys- 
ical cause ;  but  when  the  gentlemen  recalled  to  his  atten- 
tion the  circumstance  of  Mrs.  G 's  death,  he  appeared 

to  take  another  view  of  the  matter. 

Finally,  it  was  decided  that  Father  Q and  a  brother 

priest  should  accompany  Mr.  S and  his  friend  to  the 

plantation,  for  a  personal  investigation.  Soon  after  thei 
arrival  at  the  mansion  the  priests,  preceded  by  the  ser- 
vants of  the  family,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  ^' ,  and  the  two  vis- 
itors, repaired  to  the  mysterious  chamber.  When  a  little 
Holy  Water  had  been  sprinkled  about  the  room,  there 
was  a  cessation  of  the  knocking,  and  after  reciting  some 

prayers.  Father  Q inquired,  in  Latin,  of  whatever 

spirit  might  be  there  the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  He 
was  distinctly  answered  in  the  same  tongue  that  the  soul 
of  Mrs.  G could  not  rest  in  peace,  because  of  an  un- 
cancelled debt  to  the  shoemaker,  Mr. .  The  interloc- 
utor was  assured  that  the  matter  should  be  attended  to 
at  once.  Thereupon  the  knocking  re-commenced  and 
continued. 

All  were  painfully  surprised,  but  thanked  God  that  it 
would  be  so  easy  a  matter  to  settle  the  debt.  The  Rosary 
was  then  recited  by  the  assembly,  most  of  whom  had 
supposed  that  the  priests  were  present  to  bless  the  house. 

Without  delay,  Mr.  S.  and  Father  Q repaired  to  the 

shop  of  the  village  shoemaker,  and  begged  him  to  present 
any  bill   that  he  might  have   against   the  estate  of  the 

late  Mrs.  G .     The  shoemaker  said  that  he  did  not 

believe  there  was  anything  due  to  him,  for  payments 
had  always  been  made  very  punctually.  However,  he 
ran  over  his  account-book,  and  declared  that  he  found 
nothing.  In  sorrowful  surprise,  the  two  friends  then 
took  their  departure,  telling  the  shoe  dealer  that  if,  at 
any  time,  he  should  find  aught  against  the  property,  to 
inform  them  without  delay. 

On  his  return  home,  the  shoemaker  related  to  his 
mother  whai,  had  happened  in  the  shop.     After  reflection. 


lL.JtJ,iJ.."-.JP,ttJlU...lJ-i|JilPIiiiJ 


I 


154 


PURGATORY. 


she  asked  if  he  had  looked  over  his  father's  accounts. 
"Certainly  not/'  he  said.     She  then  remarked  that  the 

request  was  only  half  complied  with,  for  Mrs.  G had 

long  been  his  father's  customer.  After  dinner,  they  re- 
paired to  the  attic,  and,  searching  out  the  old  ledgers, 
went  over  them  carefully.  To  their  surprise  they  found 
a  bill  of  twelve  dollars  and  a  half,  for  a  pair  of  white  satin 

slippers  (probably  Mrs.  G 's  wedding  shoes),  which, 

in  the  midst  of  various  affairs,  had  remained  unsettled. 
A  messenger  was   sent  with  all  speed  to  the  mansion. 

On  the  way  he  chanced  to  meet  Father  Q and  Mr. 

S .     The  bill,  with  interest,  was  paid  on  the  spot,  and, 

returning  to  the  house,  they  learned  from  the  astonished 
and  delighted  tenants  that  the  rappings  had  suddenly 
and  entirely  ceased. 

Shortly   after,    Mr.  S became   the   owner  of  the 

estate,  the  heirs  of  which,  preferring  to  live  in  Europe, 
had  permitted  its  sale,  in  order  to  divide  and  enjoy  the 

proceeds.     As   Mr.  S had   planned,   a   college   was 

there  founded,  and  before  long  it  was  under  the  control 
of  the  Society  of  his  aspirations  and  his  enthusiastic  love. 
— Ave  Maria,  Nov.  15,  1884. 


I 

i 

I 


1 

I 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


155 


THE    VIA    CRUCIS. 

In  November,  1849,  Prince  Charles  Lowenstein  Wer- 
thcim  Rosenberg  died.  A  lady  who  filled  a  subordinate 
office  in  his  family  as  governess,  communicated  to  the  au- 
thor the  incidents  which  follow.  At  the  prince's  death- 
bed, which  she  was  permitted  to  visit,  she  made  a  vow  to 
say  certain  prayers  daily  for  the  repose  of  his  soul,  in 
accordance  with  a  wish  which  he  had  expressed.  When 
the  family  was  residing  at  the  castle  of  Henbach  on  the 
Maine,  it  was  this  lady's  habit  to  spend  a  short  time  every 
evening  in  the  private  chapel.  After  one  of  those  visits, 
about  three  months  after  the  prince's  death,  she  retired 
to  rest,  and  in  the  course  of  the  night  had  a  singular 
dream.  She  was  in  the  chapel,  kneeling  in  a  tribune ; 
opposite  to  her  was  the  high  altar.  She  had  spent  some 
time  in  prayer,  when  suddenly,  on  the  steps  of  the  altar, 
she  saw  the  tall  figure  of  the  deceased  prince,  kneeling 
with  great  apparent  devotion.  Presently  he  turned  tow- 
ards her,  and  in  his  usual  manner  of  addressing  her,  said  : 
"  Dear  child,  come  down  to  me  here  in  the  chapel ;  I 
want  to  speak  to  you,"  She  replied  that  she  would 
gladly,  but  that  the  doors  were  all  locked.  He  assured 
her  that  they  were  all  open.  She  went  down  to  him, 
taking  her  candle  with  her.  When  she  came  near  him, 
the  prince  rose  to  meet  her,  took  her  hand,  and,  without 
speaking,  led  her  to  the  altar,  and  they  both  knelt  down 
together.  They  prayed  for  some  time  in  silence,  then  he 
rose  once  more,  and  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  altar, 
said :  "  Tell  my  children,  my  dear  child,  that  their  pray- 
ers and  yours  are  heard.  Tell  them  that  God  has  ac- 
cepted the  Via  Crucis^  which  they  have  daily  made  for 
me,  and  your  prayers  also.  I  am  with  God  in  His  glory, 
and  I  will  pray  for  all  those  who  have  so  faithfully  prayed 

'  Way  of  the  Cross,  more  commonly  called  the  Stations  of  the  Cross. 


I 


i 


'<iii 


^r 


156 


PURGATORY. 


'J 


for  mc."  As  he  spoke,  his  face  seemed  lij:^htecl  up  as  with 
the  glory  usually  painted  round  the  head  of  a  saint. 
With  a  farewell  look  he  vanished,  and  she  awoke. 

At  breakfast  she  appeared  agitated.  She  sat  beside  the 
prince's  granddaughter,  i^rincess  Adelaide  Lijwenstein, 
afterwards  married  to  Don  Miguel  of  Portugal.  This 
lady  asked  her  what  was  the  matter.  She  related  her 
dream,  and  then  begged  to  know  what  prayers  the 
princesses  had  offered  for  the  repose  of  his  Highnesses* 
soul.     They  Avere  the  Via  Cruets, — Footsteps  of  Spirits} 


STRANGE    INCIDENTS. 


When  the  Benedictine  College  at  Ampleforth,  in  York- 
shire, was  building,  a  few  years  ago,  one  of  the  masons 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  community  by  the  interest 
which  he  took  in  the  incidents  of  their  daily  life.  He  had 
to  walk  from  a  village  three  miles  off,  so  as  to  be  at  the 
college  every  morning  by  six  o'clock.  He  was  first  much 
pleased  with  the  regularity  of  the  community,  whom  he 
always  found  in  the  church,  singing  the  Hours  before 
Mass,  on  his  arrival  in  the  morning.  By  degrees  he  Avas 
taught  the  whole  of  the  Catholic  doctrine,  and  was  re- 
ceived into  the  Church.  None  of  his  family,  however, 
would  follow  his  example.  Exposure  to  cold  and  wet 
brought  on  an  illness,  of  which  he  died,  in  a  very  pious 
manner.  A  short  time  after  his  death,  his  wife  was  one 
morning  sweeping  about  the  open  door  of  her  house, 
when  her  husband  walked  in,  and  sat  down  on  a  seat  by 
the  fire,  and  began  to  ask  her  how  she  did.  She  an- 
swered that  she  was  well,  and  hoped  he  was  happy  where 
he  was.  He  replied  that  he  was,  at  that  time ;  that,  at 
first,  he  had  passed  through  Purgatory,  and  had  under- 
gone a  brief  purification  ;  but  that,  when  this  was  ended, 

'  Published  by  Burns  &  Laml)crt  of  London. 


\ 


I 


I 


\ 


:         I 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


157 


! 


he  had  been  taken  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  bliss  of  God  in 
heaven.  He  remained  talking  to  her  some  little  time 
Ioniser,  then  he  bade  her  farewell,  and  disappeared. 

The  woman  applied  to  a  Catholic  i)riest  for  instruction  ; 
and  it  was  found  that,  althouj:^h  she  had  never  in  her  life 
read  a  Catholic  book,  nor  conversed  about  the  Catholic 
religion  with  any  one,  she  had  acquired  a  complete 
knowledge  of  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory  from  that  short 
interview  with  her  husband.  She,  too,  became  a  Catholic. 
The  author  was  told  this  story  by  one  who  was  a  ii.cmber 
of  the  community  of  Ampleforth  at  the  time. 

'/:  '/!  •»  %  ■/;  *  * 

A  missionary  priest  at  B (in  England),  a  very  few 

years  ago,  promised  to  say  Mass  for  a  woman  in  his  con- 
gregation who  had  died.  Among  other  engagements  of 
the  same  kind,  he  unconsciously  overlooked  her  claim  upon 
him.  By  and  by  her  husband  came  to  him,  and  begged 
him  to  remember  his  promise.  The  missionary  thought 
that  he  had  already  done  so.  "  Oh !  no,  sir,"  the  man 
replied  ;  "  I  can  assure  you  that  you  have  not ;  my  poor 
wife  has  been  to  me  to  tell  me  so,  and  to  get  you  to  do 
this  act  of  charity  for  her."  The  priest  was  satisfied  of 
his  omission,  and  immediately  supplied  it.  Soon  after,  the 
poor  man  returned  to  thank  him,  at  the  woman's  desire. 
She  had  told  her  husband  that  now  she  was  perfectly 
happy  in  heaven ;  her  face,  which  had  appeared  much 
disfigured  at  her  first  visit,  was  surrounded  with  a  halo 
of  light  when  she  came  again.  This  anecdote  reached 
the  author  through  a  common  friend  of  his  own  and  of 
the  missionary. 

-:<-  *  *  *  -x-  vf  * 

A  similar  anecdote  is  told  of  a  nun  in  the  English  con- 
vent of  Bruges,  between  thirty  and  forty  years  ago.  A 
relation  of  Canon  Schmidt  had  died  in  the  house,  and 

Miss  L ,  another  nun,  much  attached  to  her,  saw  her 

friend  one  night  in  a  dream.  She  seemed  to  come  with  a 
serious  countenance,  and  pointed  to  the  Office  for  the 
Dead  in  an  office-book,  which  she  appeared  to  hold  in 


'I 


158 


PURGATORY. 


Her  friend  was  much  perplexed,  and  consulted 
-,  a  third  nun,  wlio  su^<^cstcd  that  perhaps  Miss 


her  hand. 
Miss  N — 

L had  not  said  the  Office  three  times,  as  usual,  for  her 

deceased  sister.     Miss  L was  nearly   sure   that  she 

had  ;  but  as  she  had  a  habit  of  marking  off  this  obligation 
as  it  was  discharj^ed,  it  could  be  easily  ascertained.  On 
examining  her  private  note-book,  it  turned  out  that  she 

had  not  said  the  three  Offices.     Miss  N 's  sister,  who 

was  educated  in  the  same  convent,  told  the  author  this 
little  story,  and  afterwards  was  good  enough  to  revise  his 
narrative  of  it.  So  that  this  account  is  virtually  her  own. 
Though  seeming  to  have  passed  tii  rough  two  channels  on 
its  way  to  this  book,  that  is,  through  the  author's  memory 
and  his  friend's,  yet  having  submitted  to  the  latter  a  writ- 
ten memorandum  of  the  narrative,  and  received  and 
adopted  his  friend's  corrections,  the  story  is  as  authentic 
as  if  it  had  passed  through  only  one  intermediate  chan- 
nel. For  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  value  of  a  story 
diminishes  rapidly  with  every  additional  hand  through 
which  it  passes. — Footsteps  of  Spirits,  1 13-14. 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS, 


159 


id 
ss 
cr 
ic 
■on 


i 


A    TRUE    STORY    OF    THE    "DE    PROFUNDIS." 


One  cv 


cning  in 
were  gathered  in 
in  Prince  George 
church  had  been  rccen 


the  montli  of  July,  1 84 — ,  a  happy  group 
Lhe  wide  porch  of  a  well-known  mansion 
s  County,  Maryland.     A  little  Catholic 

tly  built  in  the  village  of  L by 

the  zealous  and  wealthy  proprietor  of  "  Monticello,"  and 
as  the  means  of  the  newly-formed  congregation  were  too 
limited  to  support  a  resident  pastor,  one  o(  the  Reverend 
Fathers  from  Georgetown  kindly  came  out  oncn  a  fort- 
night to  celebrate  Mass  and  administer  the  Sacramc.'it:?. 

On  the  eve  of  the  fovored  Sunday,  Doctor  j t'»ok  his 

carriage  to  the  railway  station  and  brought  back  the  Rev- 
erend Father  named  for  that  week's  services  ;  ?.iid  his 
visit  was  always  looked  for  with  delight  by  all  ihehoi'iSC- 
hold  at  Monticello,  domestics  and  children,  bi't  ')}  Jionc. 
so  much  as  by  three  recent  converts  to  our  holy  fa'ih, 
who  often  took  occasion  to  propound  to  thei)  amiabl-;  ,<rid 
learned  guest  any  doubts  on  religious  questions  thut  h^d 
arisen  during  the  course  of  the  intervening  wecksu 

On  the  evening  above  mentioned,  the  priest  vrho  came 

was  an  Italian  Jesuit,  the  Reverend  Father  G .     He 

held  his  little  audience  entranced  with  a  fund  of  edifying 
stories  and  interesting  replies  to  the  questions  asksid.  f  he 
calm  serenity  of  the  night,  tiie  gentle,  refreshing  bree/c 
that  came  from  a  neighboring  wood  of  pine-trees,  tliC 
beautiful  glitter  of  the  flitting  glow-worm,  and  the  lich 
perfume  wafted  from  the  purple  magnolia  fjnvdi flora — all 
added  to  the  enchantment.  The  doctor  broke  the  cliinni 
by  sayirg:  "Reverend  Father,  we  ?!hct;l  be  obliged  to 
leave  early  to-morrow  morning,  "^iie  carriage  will  be 
ready  for  you  at  6  o'clock." 

"Is   it  a  long  drivo   to   the  church?"    asked  Father 
G . 


"No;   only  four   miles,"  answered   the   doctor;  **  but 
there  will  be  many  confessions  to  hear  and,  perhaps,  some 


:iv/f 


J 


k 


i 

M 


0 


160 


PURGATORY. 


baptisms  to  administer ;  hence,  unless  the  work  is  begun 
early,  Mass  will  not  be  over  before  12  o'clock." 

"  I  hope,  then,"  replied  the  Father,  smiling,  "  that  you 
will  not  fail  to  awake  betimes." 

"As  to  that,"  rejoined  the  doctor,  "when  I  have  to 
arise  at  any  particular  time,  I  recite  a  Dc  Profundis  for  the 
relief  of  the  suffering  souls,  and  I  am  sure  of  awaking 
promptly  at  the  right  hour." 

"  I  can  easily  credit  that,"  said  Father  G . 

"  It  is  a  pious  practice  which  was  recommended  to  me 
by  the  late  Dr.  Ryder,  of  Georgetown,  when  I  was  at  the 
College,"  said  the  host ;  **  and  I  have  never  found  that 
any  one  to  whom  I  taught  the  practice  failed  to  find  it 
truly  efficacious." 

"  If  it  would  not  detain  you  too  long  beyond  your  cus- 
tomary hours,"  said  Father  G ,  "  I  would  add  to  my 

long  list  of  anecdotes  one  more  on  the  Dc  Profundis.'" 

All  present  besought  the  priest  to  favor  them  ;  in  truth, 
the  worthy  household  never  wearied  of  pious  conversa- 
tion. 

"  It  happened,"  began  the  good  priest,  with  religious 
modesty,  "  that  about  twenty  years  ago  I  accompanied  a 
number  of  prominent  members  of  our  Society  who  had 
been  summoned  to  the  Mother  House,  in  Rome,  on 
business  of  importance.  The  Fathers  carried  with  them 
precious  documents  from  their  several  provinces ;  and, 
besides  the  purse  necessary  to  meet  their  current  travel- 
ling expenses,  certain  contributions  from  churches  as 
Peter's  Pence,  and  donations  for  the  General  of  the  So- 
ciety. Our  way  lay  across  the  Apennines,  and  we  were 
numerous  enough  to  fill  a  large  coach.  We  knew  that 
the  fastnesses  of  the  mountains  were  infested  by  outlawed 
bands,  and  we  had  been  careful  to  select  an  honest  driver. 
Before  setting  out,  it  was  agreed  that  we  should  place 
ourselves  under  the  protection  of  the  Holy  Souls  by  re- 
citing a  De  Profundis  every  hour.  At  a  given  signal, 
mental  or  vocal  prayer,  reading  or  recreation,  would  be 
suspended,  and  the  psalm  recited  in  unison. 


ANECDOTES  AND   I.nCIDENTS. 


l6l 


**  Luigi,  the  driver,  had  been  instructed,  in  case  of  any 
apparent  danger,  to  make  three  distinct  taps  on  the  roof 
of  our  vehicle  with  the  heavy  end  of  his  whip.  We  trav- 
elled the  whole  day  undisturbed,  without  other  interrup- 
tions than  those  called  for  by  the  observance  of  our  itin- 
erary. Just  as  the  evening  twilight  began,  we  reached 
the  summit  of  a  lofty  mountain.  The  air  was  cool,  the 
scenery  wild  and  majestic,  and  each  of  us  seemed  ab- 
sorbed in  the  pleasant  glimpses  of  the  receding  land- 
scapes, when  we  were  startled  by  three  ominous  knocks 
on  the  roof  of  our  coach.  Before  we  could  ask  any  ques- 
tions, Luigi  had  given  his  horses  such  blows  as  nearly 
made  them  throw  us  out  of  the  vehicle,  and  sent  the  ani- 
mals running  at  a  break-neck  speed.  We  looked,  we  list- 
ened, and,  to  our  amazement  and  horror,  beheld  about  a 
dozen  bandits  on  either  side  of  the  road,  with  arms  up- 
lifted, and  holding  deadly  weapons,  as  if  ready  and  deter- 
mined to  strike  with  well-aimed  precision.  But,  strange 
to  say,  they  all  remained  as  motionless  as  statues,  until 
we  had  gone  on  so  far  as  to  leave  them  a  mere  speck  on 
the  descending  horizon. 

**  Each  one  of  our  party  had  kept  exterior  silence,  but 
inwardly  put  his  trust  in  the  Most  High.  At  last,  Luigi 
halted.  His  horses  were  white  with  foam,  and  panting 
as  if  they  would  never  breathe  naturally  again. 

"  A  miracle ! "  cried  Luigi,  signing  himself  with  the 
mystic  Sign  ;  "  may  God  and  Our  Lady  be  praised !  t 
tell  you,  Fathers,  it  is  a  miracle  that  we  are  not  dead 


men 


t " 


"  *  Indeed,  a  very  special  protection  of  Divine  Provi- 
dence ! '  said  the  superior  pro  tcm. ;  *  and  we  must  all 
thank  God  with  our  whole  hearts.* 

" '  I  tell  you,'  broke  in  Luigi,  *  those  were  horrible 
men ;  I  never  saw  any  look  fiercer.' 

'"  Then,  as  soon  as  your  horses  are  able,  we  had  better 
move  on.  Shall  you  be  obliged  to  change  tlicm  before 
we  get  to  our  proposed  stopping-place  ? '  asked  the  supe- 
rior. 


I  III  f  I  s 
1 


' 


1.— M— wi  m  iw^ 


t   J 


ill 


162 


PURGATORY". 


*• '  Oh,  we  must  not  stop  to  change !  we  should  be 
tracked  by  some  of  their  spies.  We  had  better  go  on ; 
and,  as  the  road  descends  gently,  I  think  this  team  will 
make  the  remainder  of  the  route.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  our  superior,  as  we  re-entered  the  coach, 
'  we  must  all  ofler  a  Mass  in  thanksgiving  to-morrow ; '  to 
which  we  all  heartily  assented,  and  found  subject  for  con- 
versation the  rest  of  the  way  in  recalling  the  particulars 
of  our  wondrous  escape. 

"  Holy  obedience  afterwards  stationed  me,"  continued 
the  Reverend  Father,  "  at  the  Gesu.  About  two  years 
later,  I  was  called  upon  to  instruct  a  prisoner  condemned 
to  capital  punishment.  *  He  appears  to  have  been  a  des- 
perate man,'  said  the  jailer,  as  he  drew  aside  the  enormous 
bolts  of  iron  that  held  fast  the  door  of  a  corridor  leading 
to  a  dismal  dungeon ;  *  now,  however,  he  is  a  little  sub- 
dued ;  he  even  seems  contrite  at  times,  and  I  hope  he  will 
die  penitent.' 

"  I  visited  the  prisoner  several  times ;  he  was  always 
glad  to  see  me,  but  it  cost  him  a  great  effort  to  open  his 
heart,  and  make  a  full  confession.  His  birth  and  parent- 
age, and  advantages  for  a  liberal  education,  should  have 
brought  him  to  a  widely-different  destiny.  He  had  loved 
adventure  naturally,  but  had  taken  a  wrong  direction. 
He  might  have  become  a  famous  military  man,  whereas 
he  was  only  a  rough,  desperate  highwayman.  To  win 
him  to  God,  I  began  to  listen  to  narratives  of  his  wild 
brigand  exploits.  I  affected  to  be  interested  in  these 
daring  adventures,  and  then  succeeded  in  pointing  out  to 
him  the  sin  that  abounded  in  each  and  every  act.  One 
day,  as  he  was  speaking  of  the  latest  years  of  his  life,  I 
was  greatly  surprised  to  hear  him  recount  the  identical 
incident  with  which  I  began  my  story.  He  described  to 
me  in  the  most  graphic  terms  the  wonderful  manner  in 
which  his  hands  and  those  of  his  comrades  had  been  held 
by  an  invisible,  irresistible  power,  saying  that  they  had 
returned  to  their  mountain  haunts  perfectly  dismayed ; 
that  some  of  them  appeared  to  have  a  vague  and  consci- 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


163 


entious  alarm,  though  revelry  and  song  soon  banished 
such  misgivings.  He  told  me  that  they  knew  the  carriage 
was  full  of  Jesuit  priests,  and  that  they  had  been  promised 
a  great  pecuniary  reward  by  a  prominent  member  of  the 
Freemason  Society  if  they  should  succ-v^d  in  seizing  our 
luggage. 

"  I  then  made  known  to  my  penitent  my  share  in  that 
providential  escape ;  he  at  once  fell  on  his  knees,  wept 
long  and  bitterly,  and  finally  asked  my  forgiveness,  I 
prepared  him  for  his  dreadful  end,  and  believe  he  died  at 
peace  with  God,  so  great  is  the  mercy  of  Jesus  to  the 
contrite  soul,  *  even  though  his  sins  be  as  scarlet.'  I  asked 
his  permission  to  narrate  the  particulars  of  his  portion  of 
the  story,  and  he  gladly  gave  it,  hoping  to  merit  something 
for  his  sin-burdened  soul  by  that  act  of  humility." 

We  were  all  much  impressed  by  the  Reverend  Father's 
narrative,  and  as  we  bade  one  another  good-night,  the 
doctor  remarked  that  a  kind  deed  performed  for  others 
was  sure  to  merit  a  blessing  in  return,  even  though  it  were 
so  small  a  favor  as  that  gained  by  his  favorite  practice  of 
saying  the  De  Profimdis. 

"  Yes,"  said  Father  G ,  "  charity  never  fails." — Ave 

Maria,  Nov.  24th,  1883. 


PURGATORY. 


CONFIDENCE   REWARDED. 

The  following  fact  took  place  in  Montreal,  Canada, 
some  three  or  four  years  since.  We  shall  leave  the  zeal- 
ous member  of  our  association  who  related  it  to  us  to  tell 
his  own  story  : 

"  One  morning,"  said  he,  "  coming  back  from  Mass,  I 

saw  Mr.  C ,  who  was  also  coming  out  of  the  church. 

He  was  a  worthy  man,  fearing  God  and  fulfilling  his  du- 
ties  faithfully   and    conscientiously.      I   said    to   myself: 

*  There  is  a  man  who  deserves  to  belong  to  our  associ- 
ation.'  For  is  it  not  always  a  favor  when  God  deems  us 
worthy  to  do  something  for  Him  ? 

*'  I  approached  and  asked  him  if  he  would  not  like  to  be- 
come a  member  of  our  association.     *  What  association?  ' 

*  The  Association  of  the  Way  of  the  Cross  and  Masses.  It 
is  to  relieve  the  dead  by  prayer  and  alms,  two  powerful 
means.'  '  Ah  !  I  knew  nothino;  of  it.  What  has  to  be 
done  ? '  *  It  suffices  to  make  the  Way  of  the  Cross  once  a 
week  and  pay  for  a  Mass  once  a  month.'  '  I  love  the  souls 
in  Purgatory,'  he  said,  'and  I  do  all  I  canto  relieve  them. 
But,  you  see,  things  are  not  going  well  with  me  just  now. 
1  have  been  a  long  time  sick,  and  am  hardly  able  yet  to 
discharge  my  ordinary  duties.' 

*'  At  these  words  I  cast  my  eyes  on  the  speaker,  and  saw 
what  I  had  not  before  noticed,  that  he  looked  pale  and 
worn.  He  went  on  :  'As  for  paying  anything,  it  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  do  it ;  1  have  contracted  debts, 
and  if  my  ill  health  should  continue,'  he  added,  in  a  falter- 
ing voice,  '  I  shall  be  obliged  to  sell  my  little  house.' 
Then  he  stopped,  his  heart  evidently  full,  and  tears  in  his 
eyes.  '  But  Providence  watches  over  you,  and  nothing 
happens  without  God's  good  leave.  Tf  a  single  hair  ot 
our  head  cannot  fall  unless  He  will  it,  what  have  you  to 
fear  ?  Do  something  for  God  whilst  you  can.  If  you  arc 
liberal  to  Him,  He  will  be  more  so  towards  you.     Do 


M^ 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


165 


you  remember  the  promise  Our  Lord  made  to  St.  Ger- 
trude ?  *  I  will  give  an  hundred-fold,'  said  He,  '  for  all 
thou  shalt  do  for  my  beloved  ones  in  Purgatory.'  This 
promise  was  not  for  St.  Gertrude  alone  ;  it  was  likewise 
for  you.  For  one  dollar  that  you  give,  you  will  gain  ten  ; 
and  if  you  are  resolved  to  help  the  poor  souls  all  you 
can,  they  w^ill  get  you  health  to  do  it.'  *  Ah!  what  you 
say  touches  me  much,  and  truly  I  know  not  what  to  do.' 
After  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  quickl}^  resumed  :  '  Well, 
sir,  although  I  am  actually  in  distress,  I  am  going  to  try  ; 
it  may  be  the  best  means  of  getting  out  of  it.'  '  Yes,  try  ; 
we  run  no  risk  when  w^e  make  the  Holy  Souls  our 
debtors.' 

"  At  these  words,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small 
purse  which  contained  only  half  a  dollar.  '  There  is  all 
my  wealth,  and  I  am  happy  to  share  it  with  you,'  and 
he  gave  me  the  stipend  for  a  Mass.  '  I  will  perhaps  put 
myself  to  some  inconvenience  in  giving  you  that  sum, 
trifling  though  it  be ;  but,  blessed  be  God !  I  will  bear 
with  the  inconvenience,  thinking  that  those  who  suffer 
much  more  than  I  will  obtain  some  relief  in  their  cruel 
torments.  I  will  also  pray  for  them,  and  that  they  may 
obtain  for  me  the  resignation  wdiich  is  so  pleasing  to  God.' 

"  When  I  saw  the  noble  sentiments  of  this  man,  I  shook 
him  by  the  hand,  warmly  thanked  him,  and  reminded 
him  that  God  was  always  touched  by  such  acts,  and  that 
He  knew  how  to  reward  them. 

"  From  that  moment,  strange  to  say,  that  frail,  delicate 
man  began  to  recover  his  strength,  work  came  back  to 
his  shop,  and  everything  grew  brighter  around  him. 
And,  as  an  additional  reward  fn^ni  Heaven,  he  was  ani- 
mated by  a  new  zeal  for  the  Holy  Souls,  for  he  not  only 
paid  his  own  little  contribution  regularly,  but  he  also  col- 
lected the  money  for  as  many  Masses  as  he  could  on  one 
side  and  another. 

''  Six  or  seven  months  thus  passed  away  amid  ever  in- 
creasing prosperity,  when  one  day  he  said  to  me  in  pres- 
ence of  several  persons  :  *  Last  autumn,  before  I  gave  my 


:  J? 


i  I 


.!* 


i66 


PURGATORY. 


name  to  the  Association  for  the  Souls  in  Purgatory,  I  was 
so  sick  and  so  discouraged  that  I  thought  I  should  die ; 
but  when  I  had  paid  for  my  first  Mass,  from  that  moment, 
as  all  may  see,  my  health  began  to  return,  and  with  it  my 
courage.  To-day,  as  you  see,  I  am  perfectly  well.  More- 
over, I  have  found  means  to  pay  off  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  of  debt,  and  to  have  fifty  dollars'  worth  of  re- 
pairs made  to  my  little  house.  How  has  all  that  been 
done  ?  I  know  not :  for  you  will  admit  that,  by  a  poor 
shoemaker  such  as  I,  who  works  at  his  bench  and  with- 
out even  an  apprentice,  after  such  a  hard  winter,  and 
without  any  advance  before  me,  to  find  means,  despite  all 
that,  to  provide  for  the  support  of  his  family  and  pay  two 
hundred  dollars  over  and  above,  is  something  extraor- 
dinary. 

" '  But  I  know  well  to  whom  I  owe  it  all ;  hence,'  he 
added,  with  a  smile,  '  that  has  given  me  new  zeal.  Now, 
I  work  not  only  for  myself;  every  evening  I  go  out  col- 
lecting for  our  good  Souls  in  Purgatory,  and,  blessed  be 
God  !  I  have  got  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  the 
Association  of  Masses.  Have  I  not,  sir  ? '  he  added,  ad- 
dressing the  treasurer,  who  was  present. 

"  *  Yes,  you  have,  indeed,  collected  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,  perhaps  something  more,  by  twenty-five 
cents  here  and  twenty-five  cents  there,  with  a  persever- 
ance and  a  zeal  beyond  all  praise,  and  well  deserving  of 
the  favors  you  have  received.' 

"  *Ah ! '  said  this  worthy  man,  so  admirable  in  his  sim- 
plicity and  the  fervor  of  his  conA'iction,  '  it  is  that  I  still 
desire  something;  I  now  expect  that  they  will  make  me 
better,'  and  he  sighed. 

"  Thus  was  this  good  man  rewarded  for  his  confidence 
in  the  Souls  in  Purgatory,  and  such  was  his  gratitude  to 
them." — Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory,  1877. 


^^^ 


ANECDOTES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


167 


ANECDOTE    OF    THE    '«DE    PROFUNDIS." 

I  ONCE  heard  an  anecdote  of  a  good  priest  who  was  in 
the  habit  of  saying  the  Dc  Profiindis  every  day  for  the 
Souls  in  Purgatory,  but,  happening  one  day  to  omit  it, 
either  through  inadvertence  or  press  of  occupation,  he 
was  passing  through  a  cemetery  about  the  close  of  day, 
when  he  suddenly  heard,  through  the  hushed  silence  of 
the  lonely  place  and  the  solemn  evening's  hour,  a  mourn- 
ful voice  repeating  the  first  words  of  the  beautiful  psalm 
— De  Profundis  clamavit  Domini — then  it  stopped,  but  the 
priest,  as  soon  as  he  had  recovered  from  the  first  shock, 
and  remembering  with  bitter  self-reproach  his  omission, 
took  up  the  words  where  the  supernatural  voice  had  left 
off,  and  finished  the  recitation  of  the  De  Profundis^  resolv- 
ing, as  he  did  so,  that,  for  the  time  to  come,  nothing 
should  prevent  him  from  reciting  it  every  day,  and  more 
than  once  in  the  day,  for  the  benefit  of  the  dear  suffering 
Souls. 


A   STRANGE    OCCURRENCE   IN   A  PERSIAN    PRISON. 

There  is  a  very  strange  story  concerning  Purgatory 
related  by  St.  John  the  Almoner,  Patriarch  of  Alexandria, 
in  the  end  of  the  sixth  and  the  beginning  of  the  seventh 
century.  A  little  before  a  great  mortality  which  took  place 
in  that  city,  several  inhabitants  of  the  Island  of  Cyprus 
were  carried  off  to  Persia  and  cast  into  a  prison  so  severe 
that  it  was  called  the  Oblivion.  Some  of  them,  however, 
succeeded  in  making  their  escape  and  returned  to  their 
own  country.  A  father  and  mother,  whose  son  had  been 
carried  off  with  the  others,  asked  them  for  tidings  of  their 
son.  "  Alas !  "  said  they,  "  your  son  died  on  such  a  day ; 
we  ourselves  had  the  Sad   consolation   of  giving    him 


i 


I 


. 


' 


i  11 


I 


it 


1 68 


PURGATORY. 


buriiJ  "     TK 

had  done  three  times  every  venr  "  '°"'  ■  '^is  they 
the  same  intention.  But  ~il  "'?"'"*?  '"  P'^y^r  for 
this  son,  so  much  reo-rctterr  r     n^  '°  '"'^'^'t'-'  •'  one  div 

He"f' ;■?  •'"  '^^''^  ^-"  cf't,  re  :",2  '"r-bered,  eat^ 
He  had  been  supposed  dead  fn^f  '"'"''='f  ""»  'heir  arms 
"I've,  he  whom  the  other  J° /''"'' ^i^^'''^'^^' ^-as  reaTly 
''ad  a  jrreat  resemblance  to  hlTZt  •''"'^,  ''""'^'^  ^^"4 
rfally  thou,  dear  son  ?  Qh  "l  "  ="  '^  ''"•  "  How !  is  i^ 
Three   times   ci-cry   yeJ  w.  i     ,    *"  "°"™ed  for  thee- 

„  °"  «^^'>"'y  days  of  Christma's   F.  f^^^^^ed  the  son. 
Preasely  - "  ,,e  e.vclaimed      <  oi  ^u^"'  ""'^  ^^n'-cost.- 
each  time,  an  officer  radiant'  w.Vl   i   ?^  '"'''■>'  ''ays  I  saw 
and  takinsroff  my  chaiL  opened     '^'1*'  ^^'"^  ^'™'=  ^  me 
J  went  forth  into  the  citv  ?         ,    ''°'"'^  °^  my  prison 
without  any  one  appeari^;  T^"^-  ''^''''''''  'wished' 

-;ni„^,  I ,,        roZT'Z^^  Z:T\  "">'• '"  'he 

my  dungeon.  It  ,vas  the  fruiV  "'"'^"'o"sly  chained  in 
■f  Ihad  been  in  iCatort  i  >'°"'"  ^°°^ ''"y'^rs,  and 
the  same  time  to  reheye  me  ■  I  h^'  "'""'''  ''^^'^  ^^ryed  at 

nL^er"  *^  ^-''  «oTshL  ^Tfit'tr°^r^°^^^' 


M! 


'3"*.»r^"W,i  U 1  ..I  nil  III 


ANECDOTES   AND   INCIDENTS. 


169 


A  SWISS  PROTESTANT  CONVERTED  BY  THE  DOCTRINE 

OF    PURGATORY. 


I  HAVE  somewhere  read,  says  a  Catholic  writer,  that  a 
Swiss  Protestant  was  converted  to  the  true  rehgion  solely 
on  account  of  our  having  the  consoling  doctrine  of  I'ur- 
gatory,  whereas  Protestants  will  not  admit  of  it.  He  was  a 
Lutheran  somewhat  advanced  in  age,  and  he  had  a  brother 
who  passed  for  a  worthy  man,  as  the  world  goes,  but  had 
also  the  misfortune  of  being  a  Protestant.  He  fell  sick, 
and  notwithstanding  the  care  of  several  physicians,  died, 
and  was  buried  by  a  Protestant  minister  of  Berne.  His 
death  was  a  terrible  blow  to  the  brother  of  whom  I  speak. 
Hoping  to  dissipate  his  grief  he  tried  travelling,  but  the 
thought  of  his  brother's  eternal  destiny  pursued  him 
everywhere.  He  one  day,  on  board  a  steamer,  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  Catholic  priest,  with  whom  he  entered 
into  conversation.  Confidence  was  soon  established  be- 
tween them ;  they  spoke  of  death,  and  the  afflicted  trav- 
eller asked  the  priest  what  he  thought  of  it.  "  What  I 
think  is  this,"  replied  the  priest :  "  When  a  man  has  per- 
fectly discharged  all  his  duties  to  God,  his  neighbor  and 
himself,  he  goes  straight  to  heaven ;  if  he  have  not  dis- 
charged them,  or  have  neglected  any  of  those  which  are 
essential,  he  goes  straight  to  hell ;  but  if  he  have  only  to 
reproach  himself  with  those  trifling  faults  which  are  in- 
separable from  our  frail  nature,  he  spends  some  time  in 
Purgatory."  At  these  words  the  listener  smiled  with 
evident  relief  and  satisfaction  ;  he  felt  consoled.  "  Sir," 
cried  he,  '*  I  will  become  a  Catholic,  and  for  this  reason : 
Protestants  only  admit  of  heaven  and  hell ;  but,  in  order 
to  get  to  Paradise,  one  must  have  nothing  wherewith  to 
reproach  himself.  Now,  although  my  brother  was  a  good 
man,  he  was  by  no  means  free  from  those  slight  faults  of 
which  you  spoke  just  now.  He  wdll  not  be  damned  for 
these  faults,  but  they    will   prevent  him  from  going  to 


f 


r 


I 


170 


rURGATOKY. 


heaven ;  there  must,  therefore,  be  an  intermediate  place 
wherein  to  expiate  them  ;  lience,  there  must  be  a  Purga- 
tory. I  will  be  a  Catholic,  so  as  to  have  the  consolation 
of  praying  for  my  brother.'' —  The  CatccJiisin  in  Examples, 
pp.  141-2. 


THE    DEAD    HAND. 


Sister  Teresa  Margaret  Gesta  was  struck  by  apo- 
plexy on  the  4th  of  November,  1859,  without  any  pre- 
monitory symptoms  to  forewarn  her  of  her  clanger ;  and, 
without  recovering  consciousness,  she  breathed  her  last 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day.  Her 
companions  were  plunged  into  the  deepest  sorrow,  for  the 
Sister  was  a  general  favorite ;  but  they  resigned  them- 
selves to  the  will  of  God.  Whilst  lamenting  the  death  of 
one  who  had  been  to  them  a  model,  comforter,  and  mother, 
they  consoled  themselves  by  the  remembranc:3  of  the 
virtues  of  which  she  was  a  splendid  example,  and  of  which 
they  never  tired  speaking. 

Twelve  days  had  passed  since  her  death.  Some  of  the 
Sisters  felt  a  certain  kind  of  dread  of  going  alone  to  the 
places  frequented  by  the  departed  one ;  but  Sister  Anna 
Felix  Menghini,  a  person  of  a  lively  and  pleasant  dispo- 
sition, often  rallied  them,  good-humoredly,  on  their  fears. 

About  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  this  same  Sister 
Anna,  having  charge  of  the  clothing,  was  proceeding  to 
the  work-room.  Having  gone  up-stairs,  she  heard  a 
mournful  voice,  which  at  first  she  thought  might  be  that 
of  a  cat  shut  up  in  the  clothes-press.  She  opened  and  ex- 
amined it  carefully,  but  found  nothing.  A  sudden  and 
unaccountable  feeling  of  terror  came  over  her,  and  she 
cried  out:  "Jesus,  Mary,  what  can  it  be?''  She  had 
hardly  uttered  these  words  when  she  heard  the  same 
mournful  voice  ns  at  first,  which  exclnimed  in  a  gasping 
sob:  "  O  my  God,  how  1  suffer!  "     The  religious,  though 


I 


% 


k 


:. 


ANECDOTES   AND   INCIDENTS. 


171 


surprised  and  tremblinj^,  recognized  distinctly  the  voice 
of  Sister  Teresa ;  she  pkicked  up  courage  and  asked  her 
"Why?" 

"  On  account  of  poverty,"  answered  the  voice. 

"What!"  replied  Sister  Anna,  "and  you  were  so 
poor ! " 

"  Not  for  me,"  was  answered,  "  but  for  the  nuns.  .  .  . 
If  one  is  enough,  why  two?  and  if  two  arc  suflicient,  why 
three  ?    .     .     .     And  you — beware  for  yoursell." 

At  the  same  time  the  whole  room  was  darkened  by  a 
thick  smoke,  and  the  shadow  of  Sister  Teresa,  moving 
towards  the  exit,  went  up  the  steps,  talking  as  it  moved. 
Sister  Anna  was  so  frightened  that  she  could  not  make 
out  what  the  spirit  said.  Having  reached  the  door,  the 
apparition  spoke  again  :  "  This  is  a  mercy  of  God  I  "  And 
in  proof  of  the  reality,  with  its  open  hand  it  struck  the 
upper  panel  of  the  door  near  the  frame,  leaving  the  im- 
pression of  the  hand  more  perfect  than  it  could  have 
been  made  by  the  most  skillful  artist  with  a  hot  iron. 

Sister  Anna  was  like  Balthasar:  "Then  was  the  Kincf's 
countenance  changed,  and  his  thoughts  troubled  him  ; 
and  the  joints  of  his  loins  were  loosed,  and  his  knees 
struck  one  against  the  other."  (Dan.,v.  6>.  She  could 
not  stir  for  a  considerable  time  ;  she  did.  not  even  dare 
to  turn  her  head.  But  at  last  she  tottered  out  and  called 
one  of  her  companions,  who,  hearing  her  feeble,  broken 
words,  ran  to  her  with  another  Sister  ;  and  presently  the 
whole  community  was  gathered  round  in  alarm.  They 
learned  in  a  confused  manner  what  had  taken  place,  per- 
ceived the  smell  of  burnt  wood,  and  noticed  a  whitish 
cloud  or  mist  that  filled  the  room  and  made  it  almost 
dark.  They  examined  the  door  carefully  though  trem- 
blingly, and  recognized  the  fac-simile  of  Sister  Teresa's 
hand ;  and,  filled  with  terror,  they  fled  to  the  choir. 

There  the  Sisters,  forgetting  the  need  of  food  and  rest, 
remained  in  prayer  till  after  sunset,  abandoning  ever}^- 
thing  in  their  anxiety  to  procure  relief  for  their  beloved 
Sister  Teresa,     The  zealous  Minorite  Fathers,  who  have 


iM  \ 
i    ' 


MffffMnMRWPi 


,  iiu  .iiiiiiiiipwrm^fni^nnevRR* 


-A 


I  f  1 


i;2 


rURGATORY. 


the  spiritual  direction  of  the  convent,  learning  what 
had  happened,  were  equally  earnest  in  oflcring  prayers 
and  sacrifice,  and  in  singing  tiic  i)salms  for  the  dead. 
Many  of  the  faithful  likewise  assembling,  not  through  itilc 
curiosity,  but  out  of  genuine  piety,  joined  in  the  recita- 
tion of  the  Rosary  and  other  prayers,  though  the  de- 
ceased Sister  was  almost  entirely  unknown  to  the  peoj)lc. 
Her  observance  of  the  rule  was  very  strict,  and  she 
vScrui)ulously  avoided  all  intercourse  with  pc()j)le  outside 
her  convent.  But  still  large  numbers  crowded  to  join  in 
those  devotions  for  her. 

wSister  Anna,  who  was  more  worn  out  by  excitement 
than  the  other  religious,  was  directed  to  retire  early  the 
following  night.  She  herself  confesses  that  she  was  fully 
resolved  next  day  to  remove,  at  any  cost,  the  obnoxious 
marks  of  the  hand.  But  Sister  Teresa  appeared  to  her  in 
a  dream,  saying :  "  You  intend  to  remove  the  sign  which 
I  have  left.  Know  that  it  is  not  in  your  power  to  do  so, 
even  with  the  aid  of  others  ;  for  it  is  there  by  the  com- 
mand of  God,  for  the  instruction  of  the  people.  By  Mis 
just  and  inexorable  judgment  I  was  condemned  to  the 
dreadful  fires  of  Purgatory  for  forty  years  on  account 
of  my  condescension  to  the  will  of  some  of  the  nuns.  I 
thank  you  and  those  who  joined  in  so  many  prayers  to 
the  Lord  for  me ;  all  of  which  He  was  pleased  in  His 
mercy  to  accept  as  suffrages  for  me,  and  especially  the 
Seven  Penitential  Psalms,  which  were  such  a  relief!" 
And  then,  with  a  smiling  countenance,  she  added  :  "  Oh  ! 
blessed  rags,  that  are  rewarded  with  such  rich  gariuents ! 
Oh !  happy  poverty,  that  brings  such  glory  to  those  who 
truly  observe  it !  Alas !  how  many  suffer  irreparable 
loss,  and  are  in  torments,  because,  under  the  cloak  of  ne- 
cessity, poverty  is  known  and  valued  by  few ! " 

Finally,  Sister  Anna,  lying  down  as  usual  on  the  night 
of  the  19th,  heard  her  name  distinctly  pronounced  by 
Sister  Teresa.  She  awoke,  all  in  a  tremor,  and  sat  up, 
unable  to  answer.  Her  astonishment  was  great  when, 
near  the  foot  of  the  bed,  she  saw  a  globe  of  light  that 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


^71 


made  the  cell  as  bright  as  noonday,  and  .she  lieard  the 
spirit  say  in  a  joyful  voice:  "  On  the  day  of  the  I'assion  I 
died  (on  I'riday),  and  on  the  day  of  the  Passion  I  j^o  to 
j^-lory.  .  .  .  vStrenj^th  in  the  Cross !  .  .  .  Courajj^e  to 
suffer!  .  .  ."  Then,  saying' three  times  "  Adieu  !  "  the 
globe  was  transformed  into  a  thin,  white,  shining  cloud, 
rose  towards  heaven,  and  disappeared. 

The  zealous  Bishop  of  the  diocese  having  heard  of 
these  events,  instituted  the  process  of  examination  on  the 
23d  of  the  same  month.  Tlic  grave  was  opened  in  pres- 
ence of  a  large  number  of  persons  assembled  for  the  occa- 
sion ;  the  impression  of  the  hand  on  the  door  was  com- 
pared with  the  hand  of  the  dead,  and  both  were  found  to 
correspond  exactly.  The  door  itself  was  set  apart  in  a 
safe  place  and  guarded.  Many  persons  being  anxious  to 
see  the  impression,  it  was  allowed  to  be  visited,  after  a 
certain  lapse  of  time,  and  with  due  precautions,  by  such 
as  had  secured  the  necessary  permission. — Ave  Maria, 
Nov.  17,  1883. 


ti    M 


' 


_J 


iWHH 


'  'V 


174  PURGATORY. 


A    BEAUTIFUL    EXAMPLE. 

The  following  fact  is  related  by  the  Treasurer  of  the 
Association  for  the  Souls  in  Purgatory.  He  himself  was 
personally  cognizant  of  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 
We  leave  him  to  speak : 

"  Mr. ,"  said  he,  "  was  one  of  our  first  and  most 

fervent  associates.  His  devotedness  for  good  works  is 
well  known,  so  that  he  is  everywhere  regarded  as  an  ac- 
quisition in  all  pious  enterprises.  His  exemplary  con- 
duct rendered  him,  moreover,  one  of  the  most  precious 
auxiliaries  of  the  work.  Hence  his  zeal,  instead  of  slack- 
ening, did  but  go  on  increasing ;  and  whereas,  in  the  be- 
ginning, his  collection  amounted  only  to  some  dollars, 
after  a  while  he  often  brought  me  forty  or  fifty  dollars 
for  the  suffering  souls.  Mav  Heaven  bless  that  fervent 
associate,  and  may  his  exar  Ae  serve  as  a  lesson  to  the 
indifferent ! 

"  During  o'jhteen  months,  or  two  years,  this  pious  and 
zealous  member  brought  me  every  six  months, — with 
other  moneys, — the  sum  of  fifteen  dollars  which  was  thus 
periodically  sent  him ;  and  each  time  that  I  asked  him 
whence  this  money  came,  he  answered  that  he  knew 
nothing  of  it  himself;  that  it  was  sent  him  by  a  worthy 
man  without  further  information,  and  so  he  brought  it  to 
me  without  aski  g,  or  knowing  anything  more. 

"  Desirous  of  getting  to  the  bottom  of  this  mystery, 
I  resolved  to  try  and  find  out  what  it  meant.     I,  one  day, 

asked   Mr.  to  tell  me  the  name  of  this  generous 

protector  of  the  poor  souls,  for  I  was  going  to  hunt  him 
up. — '  Oh !  *  said  he,  *  it  is  Such-a-one  ;  he  lives  a  long  way 
off,  towards  Hochelaga,'  but,  indeed,  I  cannot  tell  you 
the  exact  place.' 

"  Such  vague  information  embanassed  me  no  little.  I, 
nevertheless,  took  the  City  Directory,  but,  alas !   there 

'  A  suburban  town  or  village  of  Montreal,  situated,  like  the  city,  on  the 
banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 


r 


lii 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


175 


were  fully  twenty-five  persons  of  the  same  name.  Re- 
solved, however,  to  put  an  end  to  this  uncertainty,  I  pro- 
ceeded, with  the  little  information  I  had,  to  the  place 
indicated  to  me ;  I  arrive  at  a  house  bearing  the  name 
of  the  new  benefactor  of  our  work.  I  ^o  in  at  a  venture ; 
it  was  a  little  shoe-store,  scarcely  fifteen  feet  square, 
somewhat  gloomy  and  not  over-clean,  owing,  probablj-, 
to  the  nature  of  the  business  carried  on  there ;  the  whole 
appearance  of  the  place  was,  indeed,  very  unlike  one 
where  much  money  could  be  made.  Going  in,  I  per- 
ceived sitting  in  the  farther  end  of  the  store,  a  man  whose 
face  was  so  expressive  of  goodness,  so  open  and  so  calm, 
that  only  a  good  conscience  could  leave  so  gracious  an 
imprint  on  the  features,  and  I  said  to  myself:  *  That  is 
he.' — Then  I  asked  aloud  :  '  You  arc  Mr.  wSuch-a-onc?' — 

*  That  is  my  name,'  he  answered,  with  a  pleasant  smile. — 

*  But  is  it  you  who  has  sent  us  every  six  months  for  two 
years,  the  sum  of  fifteen  dollars, — thirty  dollars  a  year, — 
for  the  Souls  in  Purgatory,  apart  from  your  regular  con- 
tribution ? ' — '  Yes,'  said  he,  quietly,  and  still  witli  the 
same  smile  on  his  lips. — '  Ah  ! '  said  I,  '  we  are  very  grate- 
ful to  you,  and  the  Holy  Souls  will  surely  be  mindful  of 
you.  I  suppose  you  have  a  great  compassion  for  those 
poor  souls  who  suffer  so  much,  and  that  that  insi)ircsyou 
with  zeal,  and  so  you  make  up  this  sum  amongst  your 
friends  and  neighbors  ;  or  they,  perhaps,  bring  it  to  your 
house,  quarter  by  quarter,  as  is  done  elsewhere  ? ' — •  No !  * 
said  he,  still  very  quietly,  '  no,  it  is  my  own  little  share.' — 

*  How  !  your  own  little  share?  '  and  instinctively  I  cast  a 
glance  around  the  little  store,  which  seemed  hardly  to  jus- 
tify the  giving  of  such  a  sum.  '  How  !  your  little  share? 
but  we  find  it  a  very  large  and  generous  one,  and  we  are 
happy  that  your  zeal  and  charity  make  it  seem  to  you  so 
small.  Heaven  will  bless  you  for  it.  Still  there  must  be 
something  hidden  under  these  gifts,  so  often  repeated  ; 
the  Holy  Souls  must  have  done  you  some  favor.  Please 
tell  me,  then,  what  induces  you  to  give  so  handsome  a 
sum  every  year,  without  being  asked  ? ' 


I-     I 


I  It 


176 


PURGATORY. 


ii 


'.I 


I    : 


1 


" '  Well,  I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that  the  Souls  in 
Purgatory  have  visibly  protected  me  ;  and  to  make  known 
to  you,  in  a  few  words,  all  my  little  history,  I  must  tell  you 
that,  two  or  three  years  ago,  I  heard  people  speak  so 
favorably  of  the  Association  for  the  Souls  in  Purgatory — I 
heard  so  much  about  it,  indeed,  that  from  that  day  for- 
ward, I  placed  all  my  little  business  under  the  care  of  the 
Suffering  Souls,  and  ever  since,  I  am  happy  to  tell  you, 
to  the  credit  of  those  holy  Souls,  that  my  affairs  go,  as  if 
they  were  on  wheels  !  "  (These  are  his  own  words.)  "  I 
give  my  thirty-three  dollars  a  year  without  any  injury  to 
myself;  on  the  contrary,  all  goes  the  better  for  it.  My 
store  is  not  much  to  look  at,  but  it  is  well  filled,  and  all 
that  is  in  it  is  my  own.  Apart  from  that,  and  what  is 
still  better,  I  have  not  a  penny  of  debt.' 

'*  He  then  added,  in  a  lower  tone  :  *  I  have,  moreover, 
the  happiness  of  honoring  in  that  way  the  thirty-three 
years  of  labors  and  sufferings  which  Our  Divine  Lord 
spent  on  earth.     That  thought  does  my  poor  heart  good. 

"  *  Ah,  sir,'  said  he,  with  an  impulse  of  true  faith  which 
made  my  heart  thrill — 'Ah,  sir,  if  men  believed  more, 
they  would  do  wonders,  and  the  word  of  Our  Lord  never 
fails,  and  He  has  said  that  the  more  one  gives  the  more 
they  receive,  for  charity  never  makes  any  one  poor  ;  only 
we  must  give  without  distrust,  and  without  speculation.' 

"  I  warmly  shook  hands  with  this  admirable  man,  and 
returned  home  as  charmed  with  my  visit  as  delighted  with 
so  much  faith.  Then  I  said  to  myself:  '  There  is  a  fine 
example  to  follow.  How  many  others  might  have  no 
debts,  if  they  knew  hov/  to  make  vSacrifices  for  the  dear 
Suffering  Souls!'" — Altnanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory ^ 
1877. 


*i-  i_ 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


177 


> 


r 


HOW   TO    PAY    ONES   DEBTS. 

Speaking  just  now  of  that  generous  man  who  had  no 
debts,  we  called  to  mind  an  example  that  teaches  a  pretty- 
way  of  paying  debts.  We  are  about  to  furnish  the  re- 
ceipt, so  that  no  one  may  complain,  giving  to  each  the 
chance  of  making  use  of  it.  In  divulging  this  secret  we 
shall  certainly  pass  for  the  least  selfish  man  in  the  world ; 
for,  to  furnish  every  one  with  the  means  of  paying  their 
debts,  is  it  not  to  procure  for  each  the  opportunity  of  en- 
riching himself?  But,  dear  reader,  laying  aside  all 
thanks,  hasten  only  to  profit  by  the  receipt,  and  we  shall, 
each  of  us,  have  obtained  our  object. 

We  take  this  secret  from  the  Chronicles  of  the  good 
Friars  Minors,  an  authority  to  which  no  one  can  take  ex- 
ception. 

The  Blessed  Bcrthold  belonged  to  the  great  Franciscan 
family.  His  fine  talents  and  rare  virtues  had  caused  him 
to  be  appointed  a  preacher  of  the  Order.  The  Sovereign 
Pontiff,  seeing  all  the  good  that  Berthold  was  destined  to 
do  by  his  eloquent  sermons,  had  given  him  power  to 
grant  to  each  of  his  hearers,  an  indulgence  of  ten  days ; 
which  was  a  great  privilege  for  the  faithful,  as  well  as  a 
mark  of  esteem  and  distinction  for  himself. 

Friar  lierthold,  then,  had  preached  a  most  moving  ser- 
mon on  alms-giving,  and  had  granted  the  ten  days'  indul- 
gence to  all  who  were  present.  Amongst  the  audience 
was  a  lady  of  quality  who,  owing  to  a  reverse  of  f(M-tune, 
was  in  great  distress  and  loaded  with  debt.  She  had 
hitherto  been  content  to  suffer  in  silence,  being  prevented 
by  a  false  shame  from  making  her  condition  known ;  but 
overcome  by  the  enthusiastic  cliarity  of  the  good  father, 
she  went  privately  to  him  to  explain  how  she  was  situ- 
ated, giving  him  thus  an  opportunity  of  putting  in  prac- 
tice what  he  had  so  eloquently  preached. 

But  Friar  Bcrthold,  who,  like  his  father  St.  Francis,  had 


ti  1 


;i    ,11 


f    S   ^l 


"fmmm 


178 


PURGATORY. 


i 


chosen  poverty  for  his  lady  and  mistress,  could  not  come 
to  her  relief.  Nevertheless,  as  poverty,  in  the  man  who 
suffers  and  endures  it  voluntarily  for  the  love  of  God,  be- 
comes strength  and  even  riches,  Berthold,  strong  in  his 
sacrifice  and  rich  in  his  poverty — Berthold,  inspired  by 
the  Holy  Ghost,  repeated  to  her  what  Peter  of  old,  in- 
spired by  God,  said  to  the  lame  man  at  the  gate  of  the 
Temple  who  had  asked  him  for  alms :  "  Silver  and  gold 
have  I  none,  but  that  which  I  have  I  will  give  unto  thee." 
He  then  assured  the  lady  that  she  had  gained  ten  days' 
indulgence  by  being  present  at  his  preaching,  and  he 
added :  "  Go  to  such  a  banker  in  the  city.  Hitherto  he 
has  busied  himself  much  more  about  temporal  riches  than 
spiritual  treasures,  but  offer  him  in  return  for  the  dona- 
tion he  will  give  you,  to  make  over  to  him  the  merit  of 
this  indulgence,  so  that  the  pains  awaiting  him  in  Pur- 
gatory may  be  diminished.  I  have  every  reason  to  think," 
continued  the  good  Father,  "  that  he  will  give  you  some 
assistance." 

The  poor  woman,  full  of  that  faith  which  is  so  power- 
ful, went  as  she  was  told,  in  all  simplicity.  God  touched 
the  heart  of  the  rich  man,  who  received  her  kindly.  He 
asked  her  how  much  she  expected  to  receive  in  exchange 
fo^  her  ten  days'  indulgence.  Feeling  herself  animated  by 
an  interior  strength,  she  replied  :  **  As  much  as  it  weighs 
in  the  balance." — "  Well!  "  said  the  banker,  "here  is  the 
balance.  Write  down  your  ten  days'  indulgence,  and  put 
the  paper  in  one  scale ;  I  will  place  a  piece  of  money  in 
the  other."  O  prodigy !  the  scale  with  the  paper  in  it 
does  not  rise,  but  the  other  does.  The  banker,  much 
amazed,  puts  in  another  piece  of  money,  but  the  weight 
is  not  changed  ;  he  puts  in  another,  then  another;  but  the 
result  is  still  the  same,  the  paper  on  which  the  indulgence 
is  written  is  still  the  heaviest.  The  Banker  puts  down 
then  five,  ten,  thirty  pieces,  till  there  was  as  much  as  the 
whole  amount  which  the  lady  required  for  licr  present 
needs.  Then  only  did  the  two  scales  become  ecjual. 
The   banker,   struck   with   astonishment,   saw    ia    this 


mam 


le 

lO 

is 

y 


ANECDOTES   AND   INCIDENTS. 


marvel  a  precious  le^^nn  r     i  •  ^^^ 

-sensiMe  oF.hc  vaLetf  ,,f ,  l-J    -;-  at  ,en,nh  .aUo 
ine  poor  Sm.ic        j  ''"^^s  ot  heaven. 

:^'%htcsrej.;^;tc,  iitrit '  "■",  ,"^'«--  --  ^".- 1.. 

'n  the  world.  ^  ""-"  ""^^  would  gi^c  all  t|,e  „„,j 

your  shoulders,  offer  „n   llf       '^"'^"™>  difficulties  on 
and  they  will  make    hl,s"e1  '^r"''"^  ^  ""^  P^"""  ^ouK 
pay  you  double,  „ay   aTprh    {""'•, ''ankers ;  they  wi  i 
ha^-c  put  in  the  scale';f  t,  ^  bit"'"''   ''""  ^^''atever  y„ 
pay  you  not  only  in  spir    °  I  f  ^      "^ ""■'cy-     They  Win 

Pornl  wealth,  whieh  wi    p  oe  re  r'"''  ''"'  ''■""  '"  t*^™' 
vantag-e  of  paying  P"!  "  '^^  '">■  you  the  double  ad- 

thc  other  ^>'oWd.44i:L':%  i::/^.'°-'  and  those  of 


FAITH  KEWAKDED. 

" One  day,  in  the  month  of  Tnl„  ••     . 
Association,'  "  I  m^t  one  of  o       ^'    ?''"'=■'  a  zelator  of  the 
of  an  amiable  disposi   on  .J  "'"""^f"'   "^  ^^as  a  man 

and  his  devotion  t!?goXorksR '■'-'""'■  ''''  "^^  p4 
ffood  standinn:,  engaged  in.  ^  '"'^^  a  merchant  of 

-any  others,  howe%er  h     ,.:d''::L"?'f',  '^-'---     Like 
commonplace  question,   'How   :"  ''''",'  ^ays;  and  to  the 
P'';d:    'Ah!  badly  enough     rcafr   ^T"'"''-'  '"=   re- 
and   I   am  doubl/  unfortunate      r   t    }^  P*"*^  '^''P^^es, 
brought  me  in  two  or  threT,      ,'"''   a  house  which 
have  had  the  misfortune "V  '^'^  ^'?"'-'"  a  year,  and  I 
year,  so  that,  losing  on  all  sdesffi    ?'  '"^  '■'^"'  ''  f^'s 
embarrassed.--.  Wiij   „'„',?'  ^  ^nd  myself  a  good  de-,1 

you  a  little  advic»?/°"'   ""''   ^aid    I,   'to^^K' 
-  '^urgatory  i„  l^l  ,o  "  We^"-  ^fasses  for  the  So 

your  i„>use.     It  will  be  is  it  1       .P"''  '^°"""e  to  rent 
We  too  often  forget  ^:^ ^JZ^ ^'"^r' I"""  ^'^"^■ 

■--'---,,esj::;.i:i-^^partof 


fi     ,1 


i8o 


PURGATORY. 


if 


what  He  gives  us  so  freely.  It  is,  nevertheless,  only  an 
offering  that  we  make  Him  of  His  own  goods;  and,  at 
the  same  time,  an  act  of  gratitude  for  that  He  has 
deigned  to  give  it  to  us.  Furthermore,  it  is  an  act  of 
homage,  an  acknowledgment  of  His  supremacy.  And  we 
shall  derive  the  more  profit  from  it  according  as  we  do  it 
with  a  good  heart.  Besides  all  that,  you  have  the  addi- 
tional happiness  of  assisting  your  relatives  and  friends 
who  are  suffering  in  the  flames  of  Purgatory.' 

"  This  little  exhortation  seemed  to  strike  him  to  whom 
it  was  addressed,  and,  as  if  awaking  from  a  long  lethargy, 
he  suddenly  said  :  *  Why  did  I  not  think  of  that  before  ? 
I  promise,'  added  he,  '  five  dollars  for  the  Souls  in  Pur- 
gatory, if  I  find  a  tenant.' 

"  This  eagerness  to  do  good,  this  species  of  regret  for 
not  having  done  it  sooner,  this  pious  disposition  which 
makes  us  desire  to  relieve  those  who  are  in  affliction, 
must  have  been  very  pleasing  to  God,  for,  within  the 
week,  the  gentleman  came  to  me  with  his  five  dollars, 
and  said,  smihng  :  '  I  lose  no  time,  you  see,  in  keeping  my 
promise.' — 'Why,  have  you  already  rented  your  house  ? ' — 
'  Yes,  a  manuft.-^turcr  from  the  country  who  had  just  had 
the  misfortune  of  being  burned  out,  saw  my  house  by 
chance,  came  to  ask  my  terms,  and  we  agreed  at  once. 
He  is  to  take  possession  next  week.' 

"  A  week  passed,  even  a  month,  then  two,  and  no  ten- 
ant, when  I  happened  again  to  meet  my  friend,  whom  I 
almost  suspected  of  having  forgotten  his  promise.  'Ah  ! ' 
said  he,  '  I  am  worse  off  than  ever,  and  I  was  so  sure  of 
having  rented  my  house.' — '  How !  did  that  person  not 
come  back,  then  ?  ' — '  No,  and  I  thought  him  such  an  hon- 
est man !  The  disappointment  has  been  a  great  loss  to 
me.' — '  Write  to  him,  then,  threatening  to  make  him  re- 
sponsible for  the  whole  rent.  But,  better  than  that,  wait 
still,  and  have  confidence ;  the  Holy  Souls  caniiot  fail  to 
bring  the  matter  to  a  favorable  issue.  It  is,  perhaps,  a 
want  of  faith  on  your  part  which  has  delayed  the  fulfill- 
ment of  the  contract.' 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


i8x 


i\ 


*'  Three  days  had  scarcely  passed  when  I  a^ain  saw  our 
Associate.  '  This  time,'  said  he,  '  I  come  to  pay ;  my 
tenant  has  arrived.' — '  But  he  has  made  you  lose  five  or 
six  weeks'  rent.' — 'Not  so;  he  is,  just  as  I  thought,  an 
honorable,  upright  man.  lie  arrived  two  days  ago.  "  It 
was  I  that  hired  your  house,"  said  he,  **  and  I  come  to  take 

possession  of  it." — "  Mr. ,"  said  I, "  I  am  very  glad,  but 

I  expected  you  sooner." — "  It  is  true  I  was  to  have  come 
before  now,  but  was  prevented  from  doing  so  by  important 
business.  How  long  is  it  since  I  rented  your  house?" — 
"  Just  nine  weeks." — **  It  is  only  right,  then,  that  I  should 
pay  you  for  the  time  I  have  made  you  lose  ;  "  then  handing 
me  a  sum  of  money, "  there,"  said  he,  "  is  the  amount  com- 
ing to  you  ;  and  now,  my  family  arrive  to-morrow,  so  we 
take  possession  at  once  of  your  house,  and  your  rent  shall 
be  paid  regularly." 

"  *  So  there  is  an  end  to  my  anxiety,  and  you  cannot  be- 
lieve how  happy  1  am  in  bringing  you  the  trifling  sum  I 
promised  ;  but  while  keeping  my  promise,  I  thank  you 
very  sincerely  for  the  confidence  wherewith  you  inspired 
me  in  the  Holy  Souls.  May  God  bless  you  for  it ! '  " — 
Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory^  1881. 


APPARITION    OF    A    CITIZEN    OF    ARLES.    * 

Lecoyer,  in  his  "  Tales  of  Ghosts  and  Apparitioi.s,"' 
relates  a  historical  occurrence  which  had  great  publicity. 
In  the  reign  of  King  Charles  IV.  of  France,  surnamed 
the  Fair,  the  last  king  of  the  first  branch  of  the  Capets, 
who  died  in  1323,  the  soul  of  a  citizen,  some  years  dead 
and  abandoned  by  his  relations,  who  neglected  to  pray 
for  him,  appeared  suddenly  in  the  public  square  at  Aries, 
relating  marvellous  things  of  the  other  world,  and  asking 
for  help.     Those  who  had  seen  him  in  his  lifetime  at  once 

'  "  Histoircs  dcs  Spectres  et  des  Apparitions." 


l82 


rURGATORY. 


1 


^ 


recognized  him.  The  Prior  of  the  Jacobins,  a  man  of 
saintly  life,  being  told  of  this  apparition,  hastened  to  go 
and  see  the  soul.  Supposing  at  first  that  it  might  be  a 
spirit  that  had  taken  the  form  of  this  citizen,  he  took,  with 
lighted  tapers,  a  consecrated  host,  which  he  held  out  to 
it.  But  the  soul  immediately  showed  that  it  was  really 
there  itself,  for  it  prostrated  itself  and  adored  Our  Lord, 
asking  naught  else  but  prayers  which  might  deliver  it 
from  Purgatory,  to  the  end  that  it  might  enter  purified 
into  heaven. 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    STRAFFORD. 

The  Countess  of  Strafford,  before  her  conversion  to 
the  Catholic  faith,  went  often  to  see  Monseigneur  de  la 
Mothe,  Bishop  of  Amiens,  and  her  conversations  with  him 
always  made  the  deepest  impression  on  her  mind.  But 
what  touched  her  more  than  all  was  a  sermon  which  he 
preached  on  the  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  in  the  chapel 
of  the  Ursulines  in  Amiens.  After  hearing  this  discourse, 
she  felt  within  I'cr  a  lively  desire  to  believe  as  did  the 
preacher  who  had  so  much  edified  her.  She  still  had 
some  doubts,  however,  on  the  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  and 
Purgatory.  She  went  to  propose  them  to  the  holy  Bishop, 
who,  without  disputing  with  her  or  openly  attacking  her 
prejudices,  deemed  it  his  duty  to  speak  thus  to  her,  in 
order  to  undeceive  her :  "  Madam,  you  know  the  Bishop 
of  London  and  have  confidence  in  him  ?  Well,  I  beg  you 
to  ask  him  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  :  The  Bishop  of 
Amiens  has  told  me  a  thing  that  surprised  me ;  he  says 
that  if  you  can  deny  that  St.  Augustine  said  Mass  and 
prayed  for  the  dead,  and  particularly  for  his  mother,  he 
himself  will  become  a  Protestant."  This  advice  was  fol- 
lowed. The  Bishop  of  London  made  no  reply,  but  con- 
tented himself  with  saying  to  the  bearer  of  the  letter  that 
Lady  Strafford  had  been  breathing  a  contagious  atmos- 


1 


., 


■'"V. 


T^^ 


T 


.1 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


183 


nhcrc  which  had  carried  her  av/ay,  and  that  anything  he 
could  write  to  her  would  pr()babl>  not  remedy  the  evil. 
This  silence  on  the  part  of  a  man  whom  i.hc  had  trusted 
implicitly,  finished  opening  the  eyes  of  Lady  Strafford 
and  she  soon  after  made  her  abjuration  at  the  hands  ot 
the  Bishop  of  Amiens.  -K/V  dc  Monsgr.  de  la  Motlu\ 


THE    MARaUIS    DE    CIVRAC. 

[From  tine  Commune  Vendee imc.') 

The  belief  that  the  living  friends  may  be  of  use  to 
their  friends  in  the  grave,  has  in  it  I  know  not  Avhat  in- 
structive and  natural  which  one  meets  in  hearts  the  most 
simnle  and  unsophisticated.  A  pious  peasant  woman  ot 
La  Vendee  kneeling  on  the  coffin  of  her  good  master,  the 
Marquis  de  Civrac,  cried  out:  "  O  my  God,  repay  to  him 
all  the  £rood  he  has  done  to  us !  "  Does  not  this  fervent 
cry  of  grateful  affection  signify :  ''  My  God,  some  rays 
arc  perchance  wanting  in  the  crown  of  our  benefactor ; 
supply  them,  we  beseech  Thee,  in  consideration  of  our 
prayer  and  all  he  has  done  for  us?"  and  this  is  precisely 
the  consoling  doctrine  of  Purgatory. 


H!' 


■    ^ll 


i84 


rURGATORY. 


■ 


GRATITUDE    OF    THE    HOLY    SOULS. 

[Rev.  James  Mumford,  S.J.,  born  in  England  in  1605,  and  who  labored 
for  forty  years  for  the  cause  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  his  native  country, 
wrote  a  remarkable  work  on  Pur<?atory;  and  he  mentions  that  the  following 
incident  was  written  to  him  by  William  Freysson,  a  publisher,  of  Cologne. 
May  it  move  many  in  their  dithcuUies  to  have  recourse  to  the  Holy  Souls.] 

One  festival  day,  when  my  place  of  business  was 
closed,  I  was  occupying  myself  in  reading  a  book 
which  you  had  lent  me,  and  which  was  on  '*  The  Souls  in 
Purgatory."  I  was  absorbed  in  my  subject  when  a  mes- 
senger came  and  told  me  that  my  youngest  child,  aged 
four  years,  showed  the  first  symptoms  of  a  very  grave 
disease.  The  child  rapidly  grew  worse,  and  the  physi- 
cians at  length  declared  that  there  was  no  hope.  The 
thought  then  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  1  could  save 
my  child  by  making  a  vow  to  assist  the  Suffering  Souls 
in  Purgatory.  I  accordingly  repaired  at  once  to  a 
chapel,  and,  with  all  fervor,  supplicated  God  to  have  pity 
on  me ;  and  I  vowed  I  would  distribute  gratuitously  a 
hundred  copies  of  the  book  that  had  moved  me  in  be- 
half of  the  suffering  souls,  and  give  them  to  ecclesiastics 
and  to  religious  to  increase  devotion  to  the  Holy  Souls. 
I  had,  I  acknowledge,  hardly  any  hope.  As  soon  as  I 
returned  to  the  house  I  found  the  child  much  better. 
He  asked  for  food,  although  for  several  days  he  had  not 
been  able  to  swaJlow  anything  but  liquids.  The  next  day 
he  was  perfectly  well,  got  up,  went  out  for  a  walk,  and 
ate  as  if  he  had  never  had  anything  the  matter  with  him. 
Filled  with  gratitude,  T  was  only  anxious  to  fulfill  my 
promise.  I  went  to  the  College  of  the  Jesuit  Fathers  and 
begged  them  to  accept  as  many  copies  of  the  work  as 
they  pleased,  and  to  distribute  them  amongst  themselves 
and  other  communities  and  ecclesiastics  as  they  thought 
fit,  so  that  the  suffering  souls,  my  benefactors,  should  be 
assisted  by  further  prayers. 


ANECDOTES  AND    INCIDENTS. 


185 


Three  weeks  had  not  slipped  away,  however,  when 
anotlier  aeeident  not  less  serious  befell  me.  My  wife,  on 
enterinuf  the  house  one  day,  was  suddenly  sei/ed  with  a 
treinblins^in  all  her  limbs,  whieii  threw  her  to  the  j^round, 
and  she  remained  insensible.  Little  by  little  the  illness 
increased,  until  she  was  deprived  of  the  power  of  speech.' 
Remedies  seemed  to  be  in  vain.  The  malady  at  len<^th 
assumed  sucii  a;j^i:^ravated  proportions  that  every  one  was 
of  opinion  she  had  no  chance  of  recovery.  The  priest 
who  assisted  her  had  already  addressed  words  of  consola- 
tion to  me,  exhortin*^  me  to  Christian  resi<^natit)n.  I 
turned  I'l^ain  with  conhdence  to  the  souls  in  Turi^atory, 
who  had  assisted  mc  once  before,  and  I  went  to  the  same 
church.  There,  prostrate  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament, 
I  renewed  my  supplication  with  all  the  ardor  with  which 
affection  f(3r  my  family  inspired  me.  "()  my  God!"  [ 
exclaimed,  "  Tiiy  mercy  is  not  exhausted  :  in  the  name  of 
Thy  infinite  bounty,  do  not  permit  that  the  recovery  of 
my  son  should  be  paid  by  the  death  of  his  mother.''  I 
made  a  vow  this  time,  to  distribute  two  hundred  copies 
of  the  holy  book,  in  order  that  a  j^reater  number  of  per- 
sons might  be  moved  to  intercede  for  the  suffering-  souls. 
I  besought  those  who  had  already  been  delivered  from 
Purgatory  to  unite  with  mc  on  this  occasion.  After  this 
prayer,  as  I  was  returning  to  the  house,  I  saw  my  ser- 
vants running  towards  me.  They  told  me  with  delight 
that  my  wife  had  undergone  a  great  change  for  the  bet- 
ter;  that  the  delirium  had  ceased,  and  she  had  recovered 
her  power  of  speech.  I  at  once  ran  on  to  assure  myself 
of  the  fact :  all  was  true.  Very  soon  my  wife  was  so  per- 
fectly recovered  that  she  came  with  me  into  the  holy 
place  to  make  an  act  of  thanksgiving  to  God  for  all  His 
mercies. — Ave  Maria. 


^^ 


tl 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


1// 


^ 


'f.^J^4^ 


/. 


y^y^ 


u.. 


It 


1.0 


I.I 


1^128 

■  50     '■^™ 


I4i 
va 

us 


U4 

IS 


I 
I 


2.5 


2.2 


2.0 


11-25  iu 


m 


1.6 


V 


<^ 


/; 


"^J 


Photographic 

Sdences 
Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRIET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


•N? 


f\ 


\\ 


V 


^ 


% 


^ 


''b 


s  ^ 


t/j 


i> 


0 


% 


o^ 


1 86 


PURGATORY. 


A    STBANOE    INCIDENT. 

A  YOUNG  German  lady  of  rank,  still  alive  to  tell  the 
story,  arriving  with  her  friends  at  one  of  the  most  noted 
hotels  in  Paris,  an  apartment  of  unusual  magnificence  on 
the  first  floor  was  apportioned  to  her  use.  After  retiring 
to  rest  she  lay  awake  a  long  while,  contemplating,  by 
the  dim  light  of  a  night-lamp,  the  costly  ornaments  in  the 
room,  when  suddenly  the  folding-doors  opposite  the  bed, 
which  she  had  locked,  were  thrown  open,  and,  amid  a 
flood  of  unearthly  light,  there  entered  a  young  man  in 
the  garb  of  the  French  navy,  having  his  hair  dressed  in 
the  peculiar  mode  a  la  Titus.  Taking  a  chair  and  placing 
it  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  he  sat  down,  and  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  pistol  of  an  uncommon  make,  which  he  de- 
liberately put  to  his  forehead,  fired,  and  fell  back  as  if 
dead.  At  the  moment  of  the  explosion  the  room  became 
dark  and  still,  and  a  low  voice  said  softly  :  "  Say  an  Ave 
Maria  for  his  soul." 

The  young  lady,  though  not  insensible,  became  para- 
lyzed with  horror,  and  remained  in  a  kind  of  cataleptic 
trance,  fully  conscious,  but  unable  to  move  or  speak, 
until,  at  nine  o'clock  next  day,  no  answer  having  been 
given  to  repeated  calls  of  her  maid,  the  doors  were  forced 
open.  At  the  same  moment  the  power  of  speech  re- 
turned, and  the  poor  young  lady  shrieked  out  to  her  at- 
tendants that  a  man  had  shot  himself  in  the  night,  and 
was  lying  dead  on  the  floor.  Nothing,  however,  was  to 
be  seen,  and  they  concluded  that  she  was  suffering  from 
the  effects  of  a  dream.  Not  being  a  Catholic,  she  could 
not,  of  course,  understand  the  meaning  of  the  mysterious 
command. 

A  short  time  afterwards,  however,  the  proprietor"  of  the 
hotel  informed  a  gentleman  of  the  party  that  the  terrible 
scene  witnessed  by  the  young  lady  had  in  reality  been 
enacted  only  three  nights  previously  in  that  very  room, 


I 


ANECDOTES  AND   INCIDENTS. 


187 


when  a  young  French  officer  put  an  end  to  his  life  with 
a  pistol  of  a  peculiar  description,  which,  together  with 
the  body,  was  then  lying  at  the  Morgue  awaiting  identi- 
fication. The  gentleman  examined  them  both,  and  found 
them  to  correspond  exactly  with  the  description  of  the 
man  and  the  pistol  seen  in  the  apparition. 

Whether  the  young  officer  was  insane,  or  lived  long 
enough  to  repent  of  his  crime,  is  not  known ;  however, 
the  then  Archbishop  of  Paris,  Monseigneur  Sibour,  was 
exceedingly  impressed  by  the  incident.  He  called  upon 
the  young  lady,  and  directing  her  attention  to  the  words 
spoken  by  the  mysterious  voice,  urged  her  to  embrace 
the  Catholic  faith,  to  whose  teaching  it  pointed  so  clearly. 
—Ave  Maria,  August  15,  1885. 


nil 


^  I 


PART  III. 


HISTORICAL 


(11 


All  the  ages,  every  clime 

Strike  the  silver  harp  of  time, 

Chant  the  endless,  holy  story, 

Souls  retained  in  Purgatory. 

Freed  by  Mass  and  holy  rite. 

Requiem,  dirge  and  wondrous  might, 

A  prayer  which  hut  and  palace  send, 

Where  king  and  serf,  where  lord  and  hireling  blend. 

The  vast  cathedral  and  the  village  shrine 

Unite  in  mercy's  choral  strain  divine. 


I  Vi 


h    I' 


ir 


-■-'^'T^t^^i-i.ii^i^xm-^iSl^^ 


r 


mmm 


I 


i: 


ill 


;fi 


■' 


m 


iiL'T  juiinma— »— |ii 


HISTORICAL. 

THE  DOCTRINE  OF  PURGATORY,  OR  A  MIDDLE  STATE, 
AMONG  THE  PAGAN  NATIONS  OF  ANTIQUITY. 

BY   THE   REV.    A.    A     LAMBING,  A.M. 

[This  very  interesting  article  was  originally  published  in  the  "  Ave 
Maria."J 

The  attentive  student  of  the  mythology  of  the  nations  of 
antiquity  cannot  fail  to  discover  many  vestiges  of  a  prim- 
itive revelation  of  some  of  the  principal  truths  of  religion, 
although  in  the  lapse  of  time  they  have  been  so  distorted 
and  mingled  with  fiction  that  it  requires  careful  study  to 
sift  the  few  remaining  grains  of  truth  from  the  great  mass 
of  superstition  and  error  in  which  they  are  all  but  lost. 
Among  these  truths  may  be  reckoned  monotheism,  or 
the  belief  in,  and  the  worship  of,  one  only  God,  which  the 
learned  Jesuit,  the  Rev.  Aug.  Thebaud,  in  his  ''  Gentil- 
ism,"  has  proved  to  have  been  the  primitive  belief  of  all 
nations.  It  may  not,  however,  be  so  generally  known 
that  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory,  or  a  future  state  of  purifi- 
cation, was  also  held  and  taught  in  all  the  religious  sys- 
tems in  the  begining.  While  a  knowledge  of  this  fact 
cannot  add  anything  to  the  grounds  of  our  faith  as  Catho- 
lics, it  will  not  be  wholly  without  interest,  and  it  will,  be- 
sides, better  enable  us  to  give  a  reason  for  the  faith  that 
is  in  us.  It  was  left  to  INIartin  Luther  to  found  an  ephem- 
eral religious  system  that  should  deny  this  dogma, 
founded  no  less  on  revelation  than  on  right  reason ;  but, 
then,  logic  has  never  been  one  of  the  strong  points  of 
Protestants. 

Before  turning  my  attention  to  the  nations  of  the  pagan 
world,  I  shall  briefly  give  the  Jewish  behef  on  this  point. 
It  may  not  generally  be  known  that  the  doctrine  of  a  mid- 


5 


..>...■-■.  j-j  u^.^—ijt—  j>;«.  j.i»i<tt>feiLntotf_avi>>i--'-»iMWW 


192 


PURGATORY. 


die  state  Is  not  explicitly  proposed  to  the  belief  of  the 
Jews  in  any  of  the  writings  of  the  Old  Testament,  al- 
though it  was  firmly  held  by  the  people.  We  depend  for 
our  knowledge  of  this  fact  mainly  on  the  celebrated  pass- 
age of  the  Second  Book  of  Machabces  (xii.  43-46).  The 
occasion  on  whicii  the  doctrine  was  stated  was  this : 
Some  of  the  soldiers  of  Judas  Machabeus,  the  leader  of 
the  Jewish  armies,  fell  in  a  certain  battle  ;  and  when  their 
fcUow-soldicrs  came  to  bury  them,  they  discovered  se- 
creted in  the  folds  of  their  garments  some  parts  of  the  spoils 
of  one  of  the  pagan  shrines,  which  it  was  not  permitted 
them  to  keep.  After  praying  devoutly,  the  sacred  writer 
goes  on  to  say  that  Judas,  "  Making  a  gathering,  sent 
twelve  thousand  drachms  of  silver  to  Jerusalem  for  sacri- 
fices to  be  offered  for  the  sins  of  the  dead,  thinking  well 
and  religiously  concerning  the  resurrection  [for  if  he  had 
not  hoped  that  they  who  were  slain  should  rise  again,  it 
would  have  seemed  superfluous  and  vain  to  pray  for  the 
dead].  And  because  he  considered  that  they  who  had 
fallen  asleep  with  godliness  had  great  gracQ  laid  up  for 
them.  It  is,  therefore,  a  holy  and  wholesome  thought  to 
pray  for  the  dead,  that  they  may  be  loosed  from  sins." 

The  Catholic  doctrine  is  thus  briefly  laid  down  in  the 
Catechism:  "  Purgatory  is  a  place  of  punishment  in  the 
other  life  where  some  souls  suffer  for  a  time  before  they 
can  go  to  heaven ;  "  or,  in  the  words  of  the  Catechism  of 
the  Council  of  Trent,  there  is  "  the  fire  of  Purgatory,  in 
which  the  souls  of  just  men  arc  cleansed  by  a  temporary 
punishment  in  order  to  be  admitted  into  their  eternal 
country,  '  into  which  nothing  defiled  entereth.'  " 

How  far  the  pagan  notions  of  a  middle  state  harmonize 
with  the  Christian  doctrine  the  reader  will  be  able  to  de- 
termine as  we  proceed. 

I  must  premise  by  stating  that  almost  all,  if  not  all,  the 
forms  of  paganism  were  two-fold,  containing  a  popular 
form  of  religion,  believed  and  practiced  by  the  mass  of 
the  people,  and  a  more  recondite  form  that  was  known 
only  to  the  initiated,  whether  this  was  the  priestly  caste,  as 


HISTORICAL. 


J  93 


was  generally  the  case,  or  whether  they  were  desic^nated 
by  some  other  name.  It  slioukl  also  be  observed  that  the 
forms  of  religion  were  constantly  undergoing  changes  of 
greater  or  less  importance.  Nor  must  we  lose  sight  of 
the  fact  that  different  nations  embodied  the  same  idea  un- 
der dilTercnt  forms.  The  conception  of  the  phlegmatic 
Norseman  would  be  different  from  that  of  the  imagi- 
native Oriental,  and  the  language  of  the  refined  Greek 
would  be  far  other  than  that  of  the  rude  American  savage. 
IJut  yet  the  same  truth  may  be  found  lo  underlie  all,  the 
outward  garb  alone  differing. 

Turning  first  to  Egypt,  which  is,  rightly  or  wrongly, 
commonly  considered  the  cradle  of  civilization,  we  may 
sum  up  its  teaching  with  regard  to  the  lot  of  the  dead, 
and  the  middle  state,  in  these  interesting  remarks  of  a 
learned  author:  "The  continuance  of  the  soul  after  its 
death,  its  judgment  in  another  world,  and  its  sentence  ac- 
cording to  its  deserts,  either  to  happiness  or  suffering, 
were  undoubted  parts  both  cf  the  popular  and  of  the 
more  recondite  religion.  It  was  the  universal  belief  that 
immediately  after  death  the  soul  descended  into  a  lower 
world,  and  was  conducted  to  the  Hall  of  Truth  (or,  *  of 
the  Two  Truths'),  where  it  was  judged  in  the  presence 
of  Osiris  and  the  forty -two  demons,  the  *  Lords  of  Truth  ' 
and  judges  of  the  dead.  Anubis,  '  the  director  of  the 
weight,'  brought  forth  a  pai'  of  scales,  and,  placing  on 
one  scale  a  figure  or  emblem  ui  Truth,  set  on  the  other  a 
vase  containing  the  good  actions  of  the  deceased  ;  Thoth 
standing  by  the  while,  with  a  tablet  in  his  hand,  whereon 
to  record  the  result.  According  to  the  side  on  which  the 
balance  inclined,  Osiris  delivered  the  sentence.  If  the 
good  deeds  preponderated,  the  blessed  soul  was  allowed 
to  enter  the  '  boat  of  the  sun,'  and  was  conducted  by  good 
spirits  to  Aahlu  (Elysium),  to  the  *  pools  of  peace,'  and  the 
dwelling  place  of  Osiris.  .  .  .  The  good  soul,  having 
first  been  freed  from  its  infirmities  by  passing  through 
the  basin  of  purgatorial  fire,  guarded  by  the  four  ape- 
faced  genii,  and  then  made  the  companion  of  Osiris  three 


I 


( 


194 


rURGATORY. 


thousand  years,  returned  from  Amcnti,  re-entered  its 
former  body,  rose  from  the  dead,  and  lived  once  more  a 
human  life  upon  earth.  This  process  was  reiterated 
until  a  certain  mystic  cycle  of  years  bccanie  conii)lete, 
when  fmally  the  g^ood  and  blessed  attained  the  crowniiij^ 
joy  of  union  with  God,  beinj^  absorbed  into  the  Divine 
Essence,  and  thus  attaininj^  the  true  end  and  full  perfec- 
tion of  their  being-."  ' 

It  may  be  remarked  that  all  systems  of  reli<^i()n  which 
held  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis,  or  the  transm {jura- 
tion of  souls,  should  be  considered  as  believinjj^  in  a 
middle  state  of  puri^ation,  since  they  maintained  the 
necessity  of  the  soul's  further  purification,  after  death, 
before  it  was  permitted  to  enter  into  its  final  rest. 

In  the  ever-varyin<^  phases  through  which  Buddhism, 
the  religion  of  all  South-eastern  Asia,  has  passed  in  its 
protracted  existence,  it  is  difficult  to  determine  with  any 
degree  of  certainty,  precisely  what  its  disciples  hold  ;  but 
the  belief  in  metempsychosis,  which  is  one  of  its  funda- 
mental doctrines,  must  permit  us  to  range  it  on  the  side 
of  those  who  hold  to  the  idea  of  a  middle  state.  Certain 
it  is,  they  believe  that  the  soul,  by  a  series  of  new  births, 
becomes,  in  process  of  time,  better  fitted  for  the  final 
state  in  which  it  is  destined  for  ever  to  remain.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  the  religion  of  the  great  body  of  the  Chi- 
nese;  for,  although  they  have  their  law-giver  Confucius, 
their  religion  at  present,  as  far  as  it  merits  the  name, 
appears  to  be  no  more  than  a  certain  form  of  Buddhism. 

Coming  to  the  more  western  nations  of  Asia,  we  may 
remark  that,  as  their  religions  were  evidently  a  corruption 
of  primitive  revelation,  less  removed  in  point  of  time,  they 
must,  although  they  had  already  become  idolatrous,  have 
embodied  the  idea  of  a  future  state  of  purgation,  not- 
Avithstanding  that  it  is  impossible  to  determine  at  this 
distant  day,  the  exact  nature  of  their  doctrines.  If,  how- 
ever, wc  turn  from  these  to  the  doctrine  of  Zoroaster, 
our  means  of  forming  an  opinion  are  more  ample. 

'  "  History  of  Ancient  Egypt,"  Gejrgc  Rawlinson,    Vol.  I.,  pp.  327-329. 


lIISrORlCAI,. 


'9^ 


IllCl 


I 


Zoroaster,  or,  more  correctly,  Zarathrusta,  tlic  founder 
of  the    Persian   reiij^ion,   was   l)orn,  accordinjj^   to  some 
accounts,  in  the  sixth  century  before  our  era,  while  others 
claim  for  him  an  anticjuity  datinj^  at  least  from  the  thir- 
teenth century  before  Christ.     Be  that  as  it  may     and  it 
does  not  concern  us  to  inquire  into  it — this  much  is  cer- 
tain :  he   was  a  firm  believer  in  a  middle  state,  and  he 
transmitted  the  same  to  his  followers.     Hut,  goinu^  a  step 
further  than  some,  he  taut^ht  that  the  souls  undergoin*^ 
purification  are   helped   by   the  prayers  of  their  friends 
upon  earth.     "  The  Zoroastrians,"  says  Mr.  Rawlinson, 
"  were   devout  believers  in  tlic  immortality  of  the  soul 
and  a  conscious  future  existence.     They  tautjht  that  imme- 
diately after  death  the  souls  of  men,  both  good  and  bad, 
proceeded   toi^ether   alonj^   an   appointed   path,  to    *  the 
bridj^e  of  the  gatherer.'     This  was  a  narrow  road  con- 
ducting to  heaven  or  paradise,  over  which  the  souls  of  the 
pious  alone  could  pass,  v.hile  the  wicked  fell  from  it  into 
the  gulf  below,  where  they  found  themselves  in  the  place 
of  punishment.     The  good  soul  was  assisted  across  the 
bridge  by  the  Angel  Serosh — '  the  happy,  well-formed, 
swift,  tall  Serosh  ' — who  met  the  weary  wayfarer,  and  sus- 
tained his  steps  as  he  effected  the  difficult  passage.     The 
prayers  of  his  friends  in  this  world  were  of  much  avail  to 
the  deceased,  and  greatly  helped  him  on  his  journey." ' 

With  regard  to  the  opinions  held  by  the  Greeks, — and 
the  same  may,  in  general  terms,  be  applied  to  the  Ro- 
mans, whose  religious  views  coincided  more  or  less 
closely  with  those  of  their  more  polished  neighbors, — it 
is  difficult  to  form  a  correct  idea.  Not  that  the  classic 
writers  and  philosophers  have  permitted  the  subject  to 
sink  into  oblivion, — on  the  contrary,  they  have  treated  it 
at  considerable  length,  as  all  classic  scholars  well  know, 
— but  while,  on  the  one  hand,  as  I  remarked  above,  there 
is  a  difference  between  the  popular  ideas  and  those  of  the 
learned,  there  is  also  here  a  great  difference  of  opinion 
between  the  various  schools  of  philosophy.     Not  only  so, 

"  Ancient  Monarchies."  Vol.  II.,  p.  339. 


'It 


il.il 


t 

o 


196 


PURGATORY. 


but  it  is  dirficult  to  determine  liovv  far  the  philosoplicrs 
tliciiisclvcs  were  in  ciirncst  in  the  oj)iiii()iis  tlicy  ex- 
pressed ;  and  liow  far,  loo,  we  understand  tlieni.  The 
opinions  (jf  the  peojjle,  and  much  more,  those  of  the 
learned,  vary  with  the  principal  pericxis  of  Grecian  and 
Roman  history.  This  much,  however,  may  be  safely 
held,  that,  while  they  drew  their  orijj^in  from  Central  or 
Western  Asia,  their  reli<^ion  must,  in  the  beij^inning,  have 
been  that  of  the  countries  from  which  they  came.  But 
truth  only  is  immutable;  error  is  ever  changing. 

I  shall  not  tax  the  patience  of  the  reader  by  askinj^  him 
to  pass  in  review  the  more  striking  periods  of  the  history 
of  these  famous  nations,  but  shall  content  myself  with 
giving  the  views  of  a  celebrated  writer  on  a  part,  at  least^ 
of  the  question.  Speaking  of  the  opinions  held  by  the 
Greek  philosophers  regarding  the  future  state  of  the 
soul,  Dr.  Dollinger  says,  "  The  old  and  universal  tradi- 
tion admitted,  in  general,  that  man  continued  t(j  exist 
after  death ;  but  the  Greeks  of  the  Homeric  age  did  not 
dream  of  a  retribution  appointed  to  all  after  death,  or  of 
purifying  and  penitential  punishments.  It  is  only  some 
conspicuous  offenders  against  the  gods  who,  in  Homer, 
are  tormented  in  distant  Erebus.  In  Hesiod,  the  earlier 
races  of  man  continue  to  live  on,  sometimes  as  good 
demons,  sometimes  as  souls  of  men  in  bliss,  or  as  heroes; 
yet,  though  inculcating  moral  obligations,  he  docs  not 
point  to  a  reward  to  be  looked  for  beyond  the  grave,  but 
only  to  the  justice  that  dominates  in  this  economy.  .  .  . 
Plato  expressly  ascribes  to  the  Orphic  writers  the  dogma 
of  the  soul's  finding  herself  in  the  body  as  in  a  sepulchre 
or  prison,  on  the  score  of  previously  contracted  guilt ;  a 
dogma  indubitably  ascending  to  a  very  high  antiquity. 
.  .  .  It  is  from  this  source  that  Pindar  drew,  who,  of 
the  old  Greeks,  generally  has  expressed  notions  the  most 
precise  and  minutely  distinct  of  trial  and  tribulation  after 
death,  and  the  circuits  and  lustrations  of  the  soul.  He 
assigns  the  island  of  the  blest  as  for  the  everlasting  en- 
joyment of  those  who,  in  a  triple  existence  in  the  upper 


i 


J 


HISTORICAL. 


197 


)plicrs 
py  ex.. 
'J'he 
lof  the 
|iii  and 
safely 
:ral  or 
,,  have 
But 

hi,''  him 

listory 
f  with 
t  least, 
by  the 
of  the 
tracli- 
)  exist 
lid  not 
,  or  of 
'  some 
lonier, 
earlier 
gfood 
eroes ; 
cs  not 
'e,  but 

•       •       • 

loi^nia 
.ilehrc 
lilt  ;  a 
quity. 
lio,  of 

most 

after 

He 

ig  en- 

ipper 


and  lower  world,  have  been  able  to  keep  their  souls  per- 
fectly pure  from  all  sin.  On  the  other  hand,  the  souls  of 
siiniers  appear  after  death  before  the  jud<;ment  seat  of  a 
judge  of  the  nether  world,  by  whom  they  are  sentenced 
to  a  heavy  doom,  and  are  ceaselessly  drai^ij^ed  the  world 
over,  sulleriuii^  bloody  torments.  Hut  as  for  those  whom 
l'ersei)hone  has  released  from  the  old  guilt  of  sin,  their 
souls  she  sends  in  the  ninth  year  back  again  to  th.e  upper 
sun  ;  of  them  are  born  mighty  kings,  and  men  of  power 
and  wisdom,  who  come  to  be  styled  saintly  heroes  by 
their  jjosterity."  And,  again  :  "  Plato  was  the  first  of  the 
Greeks  to  throw  himself,  in  all  sincerity,  and  with  the 
whole  tle|)th  of  his  intellect,  upon  the  solution  of  the  great 
(luestion  of  immortality.  .  .  .  He  was,  in  truth,  the 
prophet  of  the  doctrine  of  immortality  for  his  time,  and 
for  the  Greek  nation.  .  .  .  The  metempsychosis  which 
he  taught  under  Orphic  and  Pythagorean  inspiration  is 
an  essential  ingredient  of  his  theory  of  the  world,  and  is, 
therefore,  perpetually  recurring  in  his  more  important 
works.  He  connects  it  with  an  idea  sifted  and  taken 
from  po])ular  belief  of  a  state  of  penance  in  Hades,  though 
it  can  hardly  be  ascertained  how  large  a  portion  of  mys- 
tical ornament  or  poetical  conjecture  he  throws  into  the 
particular  delineation  of  'the  last  things,*  and  of  transmi- 
gration. He  adopts  ten  grades  of  migration,  each  of  a 
thousand  years;  so  that  the  soul,  in  each  migration, 
makes  a  selection  of  its  life-destiny,  and  renews  its  pen- 
ance ten  times,  until  it  is  enabled  to  return  to  an  incor- 
poreal existence  with  God,  and  to  the  pure  contcmplatioit 
of  Him  and  the  ideal  world.  Philosophic  souls  only 
escape  after  a  three-fold  migration,  in  each  of  which  they 
choose  again  their  first  mode  of  life.  All  other  souls  are 
judged  in  the  nether  world  after  their  first  life,  and  there 
do  penance  for  their  guilt  in  different  quarters ;  the  in- 
curable only  are  thrust  down  forever  into  Tartarus.  He 
attaches  eternal  punishment  to  certain  particularly  abom- 
inable sins,  while  such  as  have  lived  justly  repose  bliss- 
fully in  the  dwelling  of  a  kindred  star  until  their  entrance 


li 


k 


' 


II 


198 


PURGATORY. 


into  a  second  life.  Plato  was  clearly  acquainted  with  the 
fact  of  the  necessity  of  an  intermediate  state  between 
eternal  happiness  and  misery,  a  state  of  penance  and  puri- 
hcation  after  death."' 

The  popular  notion  of  Charon,  the  ferryman  of  the 
lower  world,  refusing  to  carry  over  the  river  Acheron  the 
vsouls  of  such  as  had  not  been  buried,  but  leaving  them 
to  wander  on  the  shores  for  a  century  before  he  would 
consent,  or  rather  before  he  was  permitted  by  the  rulers 
of  the  Hades  to  do  so,  contains  a  vestige  of  the  belief  in 
a  middle  state,  where  some  souls  had  to  suffer  for  a  time 
before  they  could  enter  into  the  abode  of  the  blest.  But 
when  it  is  said  that  the  friends  of  the  deceased  could,  by 
interring  his  remains,  secure  his  entry  into  the  desired 
repose,  we  see  a  more  striking  resemblance  to  the  doc- 
trine that  friends  on  earth  are  able  to  assist  tho  souls 
undergoing  purgation.  A  remarkable  instance  of  the 
popular  belief  in  this  doctrine  is  furnished  in  Grecian 
history,  where  the  soldiers  were  encouraged  on  a  certain 
occasion  to  risk  their  lives  in  the  service  of  their  country 
by  their  being  told  to  write  their  names  on  their  arms,  so 
that  if  any  fell  his  friends  could  have  him  properly  in- 
terred, and  thus  secure  him  against  all  fear  of  having  to 
wander  for  a  century  on  the  bleak  shores  of  the  dividing 
river.  Nothing  could  better  show  the  hold  which  this 
i^'^^  iiad  on  the  minds  of  the  people. 

Roman  mythological  ideas  were,  as  has  been  said, 
nearly  related  to  those  of  Greece ;  they  underwent  as 
great  modilications,  while  the  opinions  of  her  philosophers 
were  equally  abstruse,  varied,  and  difficult  to  understand. 
The  author  above  quoted,  treating  of  the  notion  of  the 
soul  and  a  future  state  entertained  by  the  Roman  philoso- 
phers, proves  their  ideas  to  have  been  extremely  vague 
and  ill-defined.  Still,  there  were  not  wanting  those  who 
held  to  the  belief  of  an  existence  after  this  life.  Plutarch, 
a  Greek,  "  has  left  us  a  view  of  the  state  of  the  departed. 
The  souls  of  the  dead,  ascending  through  the  air,  and  in 
*  "  The  Gentile  and  the  Jew,"  Vol.  I.  pp.  301-320. 


1^ 


J 


HISTORICAL. 


199 


this 


. 


part  rcachinf^  the  highest  heaven,  arc  cither  Uiminous  and 
transparent  or  dark  and  spotted,  on  account  of  sins  ad- 
hering to  them,  and  some  have  even  scars  upon  them. 
The  soul  of  man,  he  says  elsewhere,  comes  from  the  moon  ; 
his  mind,  intellect, — from  the  sun  ;  the  separation  of  the 
two  is  only  completely  effected  after  death.  The  soul 
wanders  awhile  between  the  moon  and  earth  for  purposes 
of  punishment — or,  if  it  be  good,  of  purification,  until  it 
rises  to  the  moon,  where  the  vnvg^  leaves  it  and  returns 
to  its  home,  the  sun ;  while  the  soul  is  buried  in  the  moon. 
Lucian,  on  the  other  hand,  whose  writings  for  the  most 
part  are  a  pretty  faithful  mirror  of  the  notions  in  vogue 
among  his  contemporaries,  bears  testimony  to  a  contin- 
uance of  the  old  tradition  of  the  good  reaching  the 
Elysian  fields,  and  the  great  transgressors  finding  them- 
selves given  up  to  the  Erinnys  in  a  place  of  torment,  w^here 
they  are  torn  by  vultures,  crushed  on  the  wheel,  or 
otherwise  tormented  ;  while  such  as  arc  neither  great  sin- 
ners nor  distinguished  by  their  virtues  stray  about  in 
meadows  as.  bodiless  shadows,  and  arc  fed  on  the  liba- 
tions and  mortuary  sacrifices  offered  at  their  sepulchres. 
An  obolus  for  Cliaron  was  still  placed  in  the  mouth  of 
every  dead  body."  -  Here,  again,  we  have  both  the  be- 
lief in  the  existence  of  a  middle  state  and  of  the  assistance 
afforded  to  those  detained  there. 

The  religion  of  the  Druids  is  so  wrapped  in  mystery 
that  it  is  diflicult  to  determine  what  they  believed  on  any 
point,  and  much  more  on  that  of  the  future  lot  of  the  soul ; 
but  as  they  held  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis,  it  is  fair 
to  class  them  among  the  adherents  to  the  notion  of  a  pe- 
riod of  purgation  between  death  and  the  soul's  entrance 
into  its  final  rest.  Of  the  views  of  the  sturdy  Norsemen, 
on  the  contrary,  there  can  be  no  two  opinions ;  in  their 
mythology  the  idea  of  a  middle  state  is  expressed  in  the 
clearest  language.  The  following  passage  from  INIr.  An- 
derson, places  the  matter  beyond  question.  1  may  first 
remark,  for  the  information  of  the  general  reader,  that  by 

'  Mind.  2  "  The  Gentile  and  the  Jew,"  Vol.  II.,  p.  146. 


.,! 


200 


rURGATORY. 


Gimle  is  meant  the  abode  of  the  righteous  after  the  day 
of  judgment ;  by  Naastrand,  the  place  of  punishment  after 
the  same  dread  sentence  ;  by  Ragnarok,  the  last  day ; 
Valhal,  the  temporary  place  of  happiness  to  which  the 
god  Odin  invites  those  who  have  been  slain  in  battle  ;  and 
Hel,  the  goddess  of  death,  whose  abode  is  termed  Hel- 
heim.  With  these  explanations  the  reader  will  be  able 
to  understand  the  subjoined  passage,  which  expresses  the 
Norse  idea  of  the  future  purgation  of  the  soul. 

After  speaking  of  the  lot  '^f  the  departed,  the  writer 
says:  "  But  it  must  oe  remembered  that  O-iml^  and  iNaas- 
trand  have  referen  :c  to  the  state  of  things  after  Ragna- 
rok, the  Twilight  C(f  the  gods  ;  while  Valhal  and  Hel  have 
reference  to  the  state  of  things  between  death  and  Rag- 
narok ; — a  time  of  existence  corresponding  somewhat  to 
what  is  called  Purgatory  by  the  Catholic  Church."  ^ 

It  would  appear  to  be  no  exaggeration  to  claim  the 
same  belief  in  a  middle  state  for  the  American  Indians,  in 
as  far  as  it  is  possible  for  us  to  draw  anything  definite 
from  their  crude  notions  of  religion.  A  good  authority 
on  subjects  connected  with  Indian  customs  and  beliefs 
says:  "The  belief  respecting  the  land  of  souls  varied 
greatly  in  different  tribes  and  different  individuals."  And, 
again :  "  An  endless  variety  of  incoherent  fancies  is  con- 
nected with  the  Indian  idea  of  a  future  life.  ...  At 
intervals  of  ten  or  twelve  years,  the  Hurons,  the  Neu- 
trals, and  other  kindred  tribes,  vere  accustomed  to  col- 
lect the  bones  of  their  dead,  and  c  eposit  them,  with  great 
ceremony,  in  a  common  place  of  burial.  The  whole  na- 
tion was  sometimes  assembled  at  this  solemnity ;  and 
hundreds  of  corpses,  brought  from  their  temporary  rest- 
ing-places, were  inhumed  in  one  common  pit.  From  this 
hour  the  immortality  of  their  souls  began."  This  evi- 
dently implies  a  period  during  which  the  souls  were  wan- 
dering at  a  distance  from  the  place  of  their  eternal  re- 
pose. Does  the  following  passage  threw  any  light  upon 
it  ?     The  reader  must  decide  the  point  for  himself.  "  Most 

'  "  Norse  Mythology,"  p.  393. 


■ 


\ 


i 


saam 


HISTORICAL. 


20 1 


of  the  traditions,"  continues  the  same  writer,  "  agree, 
however,  that  the  spirits,  on  their  journey  heavenward, 
were  beset  with  difficulties  and  perils.  There  was  a 
swift  river  which  must  be  crossed  on  a  log  that  shook  be- 
neath their  feet,  while  a  ferocious  dog  opposed  their  pass- 
age, and  drove  many  into  the  abyss.  This  river  was  full 
of  sturgeons  and  other  fish,  which  the  ghosts  speared  for 
their  subsistence.  Beyond  was  a  narrow  path  between 
moving  rocks  which  each  instant  crushed  together,  grind- 
ing to  atoms  the  less  nimble  of  the  pilgims  who  essayed 
to  pass."  ^ 

A  vestige  of  the  same  belief  seems  to  crop  out  in  a  cus- 
tom of  some  of  the  tribes  of  Central  Africa,  as  appears 
from  the  remarks  of  a  recent  traveller.  "  When  a  death 
occurs,"  says  Major  Serpa  Pinto,  "  the  body  is  shrouded 
in  a  white  cloth,  and,  being  covered  with  an  ox-hide,  is 
carried  to  the  grave,  dug  in  a  place  selected  for  the  pur- 
pose. The  days  following  on  an  interment  are  days  of 
high  festival  in  the  hut  of  the  deceased.  The  native 
kings  are  buried  with  some  ceremony,  and  their  bodies, 
being  arrayed  in  their  best  clothes,  are  conveyed  to  the 
tomb  in  a  dressed  hide.  There  is  a  great  feasting  on 
these  occasions,  and  an  enormous  sacrifice  of  cattle ;  for 
the  heir  of  the  deceased  is  bound  to  sacrifice  his  whole 
herd  in  order  to  regale  his  people,  and  give  peace  to  the 
soul  of  the  departed." - 

Such  a  unity  of  sentiment  on  the  part  of  so  many  na- 
tions differing  in  every  other  respect  can  only  be  attrib- 
uted either  to  a  natural  feeling  inherent  in  man,  or  to  a 
primitive  revelation,  which,  amid  the  vicissitudes  of  time, 
has  left  its  impress  on  the  minds  of  all  nations.  That  the 
doctrine  of  a  middle  state  of  purification  was  a  part  of  the 
primitive  revelation  cannot,  I  think,  admit  of  reasonable 
doubt.  To  the  true  servant  of  God,  this  unanimity  is 
another  proof  of  the  faith  once  revealed  to  the  Saints, 

'"The   Jesuits  in   North   America,"     Francis  Parkman.     Introduction, 
pp.  81,  g2. 

«  "  How  I  Crossed  Africa,"  Vol.  I.,  p.  63. 


I 


5     . 


1 

M 


il     :i , 


fd 
tl 

01 


202 


PURGATORY. 


and,  at  the  same  time,  an  additional  motive  for  thanking 
God  for  the  light  vouchsafed  him,  while  so  many  others 
are  left  to  grope  in  the  darkness  of  error. — Ave  Maria, 
Nov.  17,  1883. 


DEVOTION   TO  THE  DEAD  AMONGST  THE  AMERICAN 
INDIANS  OF  THE  EARLY  JESUIT  MISSIONS. 

In  the  ^^  Ri'lations  des  ydsiiitcs^'  on  their  early  missions 
in  New  France,  now  Canada,  we  find  many  examples, 
told  in  the  quaint  old  French  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  with  true  apostolic  symplicity,  of  the  tender  devo- 
tion for  the  souls  in  Purgatory  cherished  by  all  the  In- 
dians of  every  tribe  who  had  embraced  Christianity  from 
the  teaching  of  those  zealous  missionaries.  The  {q,\n  ex- 
tracts we  give  below  from  the  "  Relations  "  will  serve  to 
show  how  deeply  this  touching  devotion  to  the  departed 
is  implanted  in  our  nature,  seeing  that  the  doctrine  of  a 
place  of  purgation  in  the  after  life  finds  so  ready  a  re- 
sponse in  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  untutored  children  of 
the  forest : 

"  The  devotion  which  they  have  for  the  souls  of  the 
departed  is  another  mark  of  their  faith.  Not  far  from 
this  assembly  there  is  a  cemetery,  in  the  midst  of  which 
is  seen  a  fine  cross ;  sepulchres  four  or  five  feet  wide  and 
six  or  seven  feet  long,  rise  about  four  feet  from  the 
ground,  carefully  covered  with  bark.  At  the  head  and 
feet  of  the  dead  are  two  crosses,  and  on  one  side  a  sword, 
if  the  dead  w^ere  a  man,  or  some  domestic  article,  if  a 
woman.  Having  arrived  there,  I  was  asked  to  pray  tO 
God  for  the  souls  of  those  who  were  buried  in  that  place. 
A  good  Christian  gave  me  a  beaver  skin  by  the  hands  of 
her  daughter,  about  seven  years  of  age,  and  said  to  me, 
when  her  daughter  presented  it :  '  Father,  this  present  is 
to  ask  you  to  pray  to  God  for  the  souls  of  her  sister  and 
her  grandmother.'     Many  others  made  the  same  request ; 


+ 


I 
t 


HISTORICAL. 


203 


I  promised  to  comply  with  their  wishes,  but,  as  for  their 
presents,  I  could  not  accept  them. 

"  Some  time  ago,  when  the  Christians  of  this  place  died, 
their  beads  were  buried  with  them  ;  this  custom  was  last 
year  changed  for  a  holier  one,  by  means  of  a  good  Ciiris- 
tian  who,  when  dying,  gave  her  chaplet  to  another,  beg- 
ging her  to  keep  it  and  say  it  for  her,  at  least  on  feast 
days.  This  charity  was  done  to  her,  and  the  custom 
was  introduced  from  that  time :  so  it  was  that  when  any 
one  died,  his  or  her  rosary  was  given,  with  a  little  pres- 
ent, to  some  one  chosen  from  the  company  present,  who 
is  bound  to  take  it,  and  say  it  for  the  departed  soul,  at 
least  on  Sundays  and  Festivals. — Journal  of  Father  Jacques 

Buteux  in  "  Relations^'  Vol.  If. 

4t  ^S'  *  *  *  *  ^^ 

In  one  of  the  Huron  missions,  an  Indian  named  Jo- 
achim Annicouton,  converted  after  many  years  of  evil 
courses  and,  later,  of  hypocritical  pretense  of  conversion, 
was  murdered  by  three  drunken  savages  of  his  own  tribe, 
but  lived  long  enough  to  edify  all  around  him  'by  his 
pious  resignation,  his  admirable  patience  in  the  most 
cruel  sufferings,  and  his  generous  forgiveness  of  his  ene- 
mies. Having  given  a  touching  account  of  his  death,  the 
good  Father  Claude  Dablon  goes  on  to  say  : 

"  A  very  singular  circumstance  took  place  at  his  burial, 
which  was  attended  by  all  the  families  of  the  village, 
with  many  of  the  French  residents  of  the  neighborhood. 
Before  the  body  was  laid  in  the  earth,  the  widovv^  in- 
quired if  the  authors  of  his  death  were  present ;  being 
told  that  they  were  not,  she  begged  that  they  might  be 
sent  for.  These  poor  creatures  having  come,  they  drew 
near  to  the  corpse,  with  downcast  eyes,  sorrow  and  co.n- 
fusion  in  their  faces.  The  widow,  looking  upon  them, 
said:  'Well!  behold  poor  Joachim  Annicouton,  you 
know  what  brought  him  to  the  state  in  which  you  now 
see  him ;  I  ask  of  you  no  other  satisfaction  but  that  you 

pray  to  God  for  the  repose  of  his  soul.'     .     .     ." 

*  *  *  *  -x-  *  * 


204 


PURGATORY. 


"  It  is  customary  amongst  the  Indians  to  give  all  the 
goods  of  the  dead  to  their  relatives  and  friends,  to  mourn 
their  death  ;  but  the  husband  of  Catherine,  in  his  quality 
of  first  captain,  assembled  the  Council  of  the  Ancients, 
and  told  them  that  they  must  no  longer  keep  to  their 
former  customs,  which  profited  nothing  to  the  dead; 
that,  as  for  him,  his  thought  was  to  dress  up  the  body  of 
the  deceased  in  her  best  garments,  as  she  might  rise  some 
day, — and  to  employ  the  rest  of  what  belonged  to  her  in 
giving  alms  to  the  poor.  This  thought  was  approved  of 
by  all,  and  it  became  a  law  which  was  ever  after  strictly 
observed. 

*'  The  body  of  his  wife  was  then  arrayed  in  her  best 
clothes,  and  he  distributed  amongst  the  poor  all  that  re- 
mained of  her  little  furniture,  charging  them  to  pray  for 
the  dead.  The  whole  might  have  amounted  to  three 
hundred  francs,  which  is  a  great  deal  for  an  Indian." — 
Rdlations,  1673-4. 

"  THey^  have  established  amongst  them  a  somewhat 
singular  practice  to  help  the  souls  in  Purgatory.  Besides 
the  offerings  they  make  for  that  to  the  Church,  and  the 
alms  they  give  to  the  poor, — besides  the  devotion  of  the 
four  Sundays  of  the  month,  to  which  is  attached  an  in- 
dulgence for  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  so  great  that  these 
days  are  like  Easter;  as  soon  as  any  one  is  dead,  his  or 
her  nearest  relations  make  a  spiritual  collection  of  com- 
munions in  every  family,  begging  them  to  offer  all  they 
can  for  the  repose  of  the  dead." — Relations,  1677-8. 
******* 

'  The  Hurons  of  Loretto,  near  Quebec. 


J 


I 


HISTORICAL. 


205 


I 

i 


SUPERSTITIOUS  BELIEF  AMONGST  SOME  OF  THE  NORTH 

AMERICAN  INDIANS. 


CABRAL. 


When  they  arc  asked  what  they  think  of  the  soul,  they 
answer  that  it  is  the  shadow  "or  living  image"  of  the 
body ;  and  it  is  as  a  consequence  of  this  principle  that  they 
believe  all  animated  in  the  universe.  It  is  by  tradition 
that  they  suppose  the  soul  immortal.  They  pretend  that, 
separated  from  the  body,  it  retains  the  inclinations  it  had 
during  life  ;  and  hence  comes  the  custom  of  burying  with 
the  dead  all  that  had  served  to  satisfy  their  wants  or  their 
tastes.  They  are  even  persuaded  that  the  soul  remains  a 
long  time  near  the  body  after  their  separation,  and  that  it 
afterwards  passes  on  into  a  country  which  they  know  not, 
or,  as  some  will  have  it,  transformed  into  a  turtle.  Others 
give  all  men  two  souls,  one  such  as  we  have  mentioned, 
the  other  which  never  leaves  the  body,  and  goes  from  one 
but  to  pass  into  another. 

For  this  reason  it  is  that  they  bury  children  on  the 
roadside,  so  that  women  passing  by  may  pick  up  these 
second  souls,  which,  not  having  long  enjoyed  life,  are 
more  eager  to  begin  it  anew.  They  must  also  be  fed  ;  and 
for  that  purpose  it  is  that  divers  sorts  of  food  are  placed 
on  the  graves,  but  that  is  only  done  for  a  little  while,  as  it 
is  supposed  that  in  time  the  souls  get  accustomed  to  fast- 
ing. The  difficulty  they  find  in  supporting  the  living 
makes  them  forget  the  care  for  the  nourishment  of  the 
dead.  It  is  also  customary  to  bury  with  them  all  that 
had  belonged  to  them,  presents  being  even  added 
thereto  ;  hence  it  is  a  grievous  scandal  amongst  all  those 
nations  when  they  see  Europeans  open  graves  to  take 
out  the  beaver  robes  they  have  placed  therein.  The 
burial-grounds  are  places  so  respected  that  their  profa- 
nation is  accounted  the  most  atrocious  outrage  that  can 
be  offered  to  an  Indian  village. 

Is  there  not  in  all  this  a  semblance  of  behef  in  our  doc- 
trine of  Purgatory  ? 


I 


206 


PURGATORY. 


EEMEMBRANGE  OF    THE    DEAD   AMONGST   THE 

EGYPTIANS. 

In  Egypt,  as  all  over  the  East,  the  lives  of  women 
amongst  the  wealthier  classes  are  for  the  most  part  spent 
within  the  privacy  of  their  homes,  as  it  were  in  close  con- 
finement :  they  are  born,  live,  and  die  in  the  bosom  of 
that  impenetrable  sanctuary.  It  is  only  on  Thursday 
that  they  go  forth,  with  their  slaves  carrying  refresh- 
ments and  followed  by  hired  weepers.  It  is  a  sacred 
duty  that  calls  them  to  the  public  cemetery.  There  they 
have  funeral  hymns  chanted,  their  own  plaintive  cries 
mingling  with  the  sorrowful  lamentations  of  the  mourn- 
ers. They  shed  tears  and  flowers  on  the  graves  of  their 
kindred,  which  they  afterwards  cover  with  the  meats 
brought  by  their  servants,  and  all  the  crowd,  after  inviting 
the  souls  of  the  dead,  partake  of  a  religious  repast,  in  the 
persuasion  that  those  beloved  shades  taste  of  the  same 
food  and  are  present  at  the  sympathetic  banquet.  Is 
there  not  in  this  superstition  a  distorted  tradition  of  the 
dogma  by  which  we  are  commanded  not  to  forget  the 
souls  of  our  brethren  beyond  the  grave? — Annals  of  the 
Propagation  of  the  Faith,  Vol.  XVII. 


i 
'if 
I 


i 


i 


HISTORICAL, 


207 


REMEMBEANCE  OF  THE  DEAD  THROUGHOUT  EUROPE. 

PART   I. 

ANNA  T.    SADLIER. 

"  Hark!  the  whirlwind  is  in  the  wood,  a  low  murmur 
in  the  vale ;  it  is  the  mighty  army  of  the  dead  returning 
from  the  air."  These  beautiful  words  occur  in  one  of  the 
ancient  Celtic  poems  quoted  by  Macphcrson  and  dating 
some  thousand  years  later  than  Ossian.  For  the  Celts 
held  to  the  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  souls,  and  be- 
lieved that  their  ethereal  substance  was  wafted  from 
place  to  place  by  the  wind  on  the  clouds  of  heaven. 
Amongst  the  Highlanders  a  belief  prevailed  that  there 
were  certain  hills  to  which  the  spirits  of  their  departed 
friends  had  a  peculiar  attachment.  Thus  the  hill  of  Ore 
was  regarded  by  the  house  of  Crubin  as  their  place  of 
meeting  in  the  future  life,  and  its  summit  was  supposed  to 
be  supernaturally  illumined  when  any  member  of  the  family 
died.  It  was  likewise  a  popular  belief  that  the  spirits  of  the 
departed  haunted  places  beloved  in  life,  hovered  about 
their  friends,  and  appeared  at  times  on  the  occasion  of  any 
important  family  event.     In  the  calm  of  a  new  existence, 

"  Side  by  side  they  sit  who  once  mixed  in  battle  their  steel." 

There  is  a  poetic  beauty  in  many  of  these  ancient  be- 
liefs concerning  the  dead,  but  they  are  far  surpassed  in 
grandeur  and  sublimity,  as  well  as  in  deep  tenderness,  by 
the  Christian  conception  of  a  state  of  purgation  after 
death,  when  the  souls  of  the  departed  are  still  bound  to 
their  dear  ones  upon  earth  by  a  strong  spiritual  bond 
of  mutual  help.  They  dwell,  then,  in  an  abode  of  peace, 
although  of  intense  suffering,  and  calmly  await  the  eter- 
nal decree  which  summons  them  to  heaven ;  while  the 
time  cf  their  probation  is  shortened  day  by  day,  month 
by  month,  year  by  year  by  the  Masses,  prayers,  alms- 
deeds  and  other  suffrages  of  their  friends  who  are  still 


\i 


208 


PURGATORY. 


dwellers  on  earth,  living  the  old  life;  and  in  its  rusli  of 
cares  and  duties,  of  pleasures  and  of  pains,  forj^ettins^ 
them  too  often  in  all  save  i)rayer.  That  is  the  reminder. 
The  dead  who  have  died  in  tiie  bosom  of  the  Holy  Church 
can  never  be  quite  forgotten.  "  The  mighty  army  of  the 
dead  returning  from  the  air"  might  in  our  Catholic  con- 
ception be  that  host  of  delivered  souls  who,  after  the 
Feast  of  All  Souls,  or  some  such  season  of  special  prayer 
for  them,  are  arising  upwards  into  everlasting  bliss.  But 
it  is  our  purpose  in  the  present  chapters  to  gather  up 
from  the  byways  of  history  occasions  when  the  belief  in 
prayer  for  the  dead  is  made  manifest,  whether  it  be  in 
some  noted  individual,  in  a  people, or  in  a  country.  It  is 
**  the  low  murmur  of  the  vale  "  going  up  constantly  from 
all  peoples,  from  all  times,  under  all  conditions. 

In  Russia  not  only  is  prayer  for  the  dead  most  sedu- 
lously observed  by  the  Catholic  Church,  but  also  in  a 
most  particular  manner  by  the  Schismatic  Greeks.  The 
following  details  under  this  head  will  be,  no  doubt,  of  in- 
terest to  our  readers  : 

"  As  soon  as  the  spirit  has  departed,  the  body  is  dressed 
and  placed  in  an  open  coffin  in  a  room  decorated  for  the 
purpose.  Numerous  lights  are  kept  burning  day  and 
night;  and  while  the  relations  take  turns  to  watch  and 
pray  by  the  coffm,  the  friends  come  to  pay  the  last  visit 
to  the  deceased.  .  .  .  On  the  decease  of  extraordi- 
nary persons,  the  Emperor  and  his  successor  are  accus- 
tomed to  visit  the  corpse,  while  the  poor,  on  the  other 
hand,  never  fail  to  lament  at  the  door  the  loss  of  their 
benefactor,  and  to  be  dismissed  with  handsome  donations. 
Total  strangers,  too,  come  of  their  own  accord  to  offer  a 
prayer  for  the  deceased ;  for  the  image  of  a  saint  hung  up 
before  the  door  indicates  to  every  passenger  the  house  of 
mourning.  .  .  .  The  time  of  showing  the  corpse  lasts 
in  general  only  three  or  four  days,  and  then  follow  the 
blessing  of  the  deceased,  and  the  granting  of  the  pass. 
The  latter  is  to  be  taken  literally.  The  co/pse  is  carried 
to  the  Church,  and  the  priest  lays  upon  the  breast  a  long 


;  rush  of 

Jiniiulcr. 

Church 
y  of  the 
:)lic  con- 

tcr  the 
I  i)raycr 
ss.  13ut 
thcr  up 
belief  in 
it  be  in 
y.  It  is 
tly  from 

st  sedu- 
^o   in   a 
s.     The 
)t,  of  in- 
dressed 
for  the 
lay  and 
;ch  and 
ist  visit 
:raordi- 
!  accus- 
e  other 
•f  their 
lations. 
offer  a 
ung-  up 
ouse  of 
se  lasts 
ow  the 
e  pass. 
:arried 
a  long- 


1 


HISTORICAL. 


209 


paper,  which  the  coinmon  people  call  '  a  pass  for  heaven.' 
On  this  paper  is  written  the  Christian  name  of  the  de- 
ceased, the  date  of  his  birth  and  tliat  of  his  death  it 
tiien  states  that  he  was  baptized  as  a  Christian,  that  he 
lived  as  such,  and  before  his  death,  received  the  Sacra- 
ment -  in  short,  the  whole  course  of  life  which  he  led  as  a 
Greek  Russian  Christian.  .  .  .  All  who  meet  a  fune- 
ral take  off  their  hats,  and  offer  a  prayer  to  I  leaven  for  the 
deceased,  and  such  is  the  outward  respect  paid  on  such 
occasions,  that  it  is  not  until  they  have  entirely  lost 
sight  of  the  })rocession  that  they  ])ut  on  their  hats  again. 
This  honor  is  paid  to  every  corpse,  whether  of  the  Rus- 
sian, Protestant,  or  Catholic  Communions.  .  .  .  After 
the  corpse  is  duly  prepared,  the  priests  sing  a  funeral 
INIass,  called  in  Russian  clerical  language, /^?;//V/;zV/<'.  .  .  . 
On  the  anniversary  of  the  death  of  a  beloved  relative, 
they  assemble  in  the  Church,  and  have  a  paiiichidc  read 
for  his  soul.  .  .  .  Persons  of  distinction  found  a  lamp 
to  burn  forever  at  the  tombs  of  their  dead,  and  have  these 
panicJiidcs  repeated  every  week,  for,  perhaps,  a  long  series 
of  years.  Lastly,  every  year,  on  a  particular  day,  Easter 
INIonday,  a  service  and  a  repast  are  held  for  all  the 
dead." 

The  history  of  France,  like  that  of  all  Catholic  nations, 
abounds  in  instances  of  public  intercession  for  the  dead, 
the  pomp  and  splendor  of  royal  obsequies,  the  solemn  ut- 
terances of  public  individuals  ;  the  celebrations  at  Pere 
la  Chaise,  the  magnificent  requiems.  In  a  nation  so 
purely  Catholic  as  it  was  and  is,  though  the  scum  of 
evil  men  have  arisen  like  a  foul  miasma  to  its  surface,  it 
does  not  surprise  us.  We  shall  therefore  select  from  its 
history  an  incident  or  two,  somewhat  at  random.  That 
beautiful  one,  far  back  at  the  era  of  the  Crusades,  where 
St.  Louis,  King  of  France,  abse.1t  in  the  East,  received  in- 
tclliafcnce  of  the  death  of  Oueen  Blanche,  his  mother.  The 
grief  of  the  Papal  Legate,  who  had  come  to  announce  the 
news,  was  apparent  in  his  face,  and  Louis,  fearing  some 
new  blow,  led  the  prelate  into  his  chapel,  which,  accord- 


ti5 


i 


I 


l  A 


:^i'' 


I 


2IO 


rUKflATOKY. 


irifj  to  an  ancient  chronicler,  was  "  his  arsenal  ap^ainst  all 
the  crosses  of  tiie  world."  Louis,  overcome  with  sorrow, 
(|uicivly  chanj^ed  his  tears  and  lamentations  into  tlie  hm- 
jj^iia<;e  of  resignation,  and  desiring  to  be  lett  alone  with 
his  confessor,  Geoffrey  de  Beaulieu,  recited  the  office  of 
the  dead.  *'  Me  was  present  every  day  at  a  funeral  ser- 
vice celebrated  in  memory  of  his  mother;  and  sent  into 
the  West  a  great  number  of  jewels  and  precious  stones  to 
be  distributed  among  the  principal  churches  of  France; 
at  the  same  time  exhorting  the  clergy  to  put  up  praycry 
for  the  repose  of  his  mother.  In  proportion  with  his 
endeavors,"  continues  the  historian,  "  to  procure  prayers 
for  his  mother,  his  grief  yielded  to  the  hope  of  seeing  her 
again  in  heaven ;  and  his  mind,  when  calmed  by  resigna- 
tion, found  its  most  effectual  consolation  in  that  mysteri- 
ous tie  which  still  unites  us  with  those  we  have  lost,  in 
that  religious  sentiment  which  mingles  with  our  affections 
to  purify  them,  and  with  our  regrets  to  mitigate  them."  ' 

In  the  Instructions  which  St.  Louis  addressed  on  his 
death-bed  to  his  son,  Philip  the  Bold,  is  to  be  found  the 
following  paragraph  : 

*'  Dear  Son,  I  pray  thee,  it  it  shall  please  our  Lord  that 
I  should  quit  this  life  before  thee,  that  thou  wilt  help 
me  with  Masses  and  prayers,  and  that  thou  wilt  send  to 
the  congregations  of  the  kingdom  of  France,  to  make 
them  put  up  prayers  for  my  soul,  and  that  tiiou  wilt 
desire  that  our  Lord  may  give  me  part  in  all  the  good 
deeds  thou  shalt  perform." - 

l^hilip,  on  the  death  of  his  father,  in  a  letter  which  was 
read  aloud  in  all  the  churches,  begs  of  the  clergy  and 
faithful,  *'  to  put  up  to  the  King  of  kings  their  prayers 
and  their  offerings  for  that  prince ;  with  whose  zeal  for 
religion  and  tender  solicitude  for  the  kingdom  of  France, 
which  he  loved  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  they  were  so  well 
acquainted." 

»  "  MicliaudV,  Hist,  of  the  Crusades,"  Vol.  II.,  pp.  477-8. 
*  ThcsL  instructions  were  preserved  in  a  register  of  the  Chamber  of  Ac- 
counts.   Sec  Appendix  to  "  Michaud's  History  of  Crusades,"  Vol.  II.,  p.  471. 


i 


I 


'''']"*  wt^MISSfT^'- 


good 


of  Ac- 
p.  471- 


IIISTORICAI<. 


211 


In  the  Cliroiii'jics  of  Froissart,  as  well  as  in  the  (Iraiulc 
Cluotiiciiie  ol  St.  Denis,  \vc  read  that  the  body  ol  Kinj^ 
John,  who  died  a  prisoner  in  Mnj^land,  was  broiij^iit  iionui 
with  ^^reat  pomp  and  circunistanee,  on  the  lirst  chiy  of 
May,  1364.  It  was  at  first  phiced  in  tlie  Abbey  of  St. 
Antlionv,  thence  removed  to  Notre  Dame,  and  finally  to 
St.  Deiiis,  the  festing"-place  of  royalty,  where  solemn 
Mass  was  said.  On  the  lIay  of  his  interment,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Sens  sanf*-  the  requiem.  Thus  did  Holy  Mother 
Chureh  welcome  the  exile  home. 

A  i)retty  anecdote  is  that  of  Marie  Lccsinska,  Oucen  of 
Louis  XV.,  who,  on  hearing  of  the  death  of  Marshal 
Saxc,  a  Lutheran  by  profession,  and  but  an  indifferent 
observerOf  the  maxims  of  any  creed,  cried  out:  "  Alas! 
what  a  pity  that  we  cannot  sing  a  Dr  Profundis  for  a  man 
who  has  made  us  sing  so  many  Tc  Dcuuisy 

We  cannot  take  our  leave  of  France,  without  noticing 
here  the  beautiful  prayer  offered  up  by  the  saintly  l*rin- 
cess  Louise  dc  Bourbon  Conde,  in  religion  Sa:iir  Marie 
Joseph  dc  la  Miscricordc,  on  hearing  of  the  death  of  her 
nephew,  the  Due  d'Enghien,  so  cruelly  put  to  death  by 
the  first  Napoleon.  Falling,  face  downwards,  on  the 
earth,  she  prayed :  "  Mercy,  my  God,  have  mercy  upon 
him  !  Have  mercy,  Lord,  on  the  soul  of  Louis  Antoine  ! 
Pardon  the  faults  of  his  youth,  remembering  the  precious 
Blood,  which  Jesus  Christ  shed  for  all  men,  and  have 
regard  to  the  cruel  manner  in  which  his  blood  was  shed. 
Glory  and  misfortune  have  attended  his  life.  But  what 
we  call  glory,  has  it  any  claims  in  Thy  eyes?  However, 
Lord,  it  is  not  a  demerit  before  Thee,  when  it  is  based  on 
true  honor,  which  is  always  inseparable  from  devotion  to 
our  duties.  Thou  knowest.  Lord,  those  that  he  has  ful- 
filled, and  for  those  in  which  he  has  failed,  let  the  misfor- 
tunes of  whicli  he  has  been  at  last  the  victim,  be  a  repara- 
tion and  an  expiation.  Again,  Lord,  I  ask  for  mercy  for 
his  soul."  On  the  death  of  Napoleon,  the  murderer  of 
this  beloved  nephew,  the  same  holy  religious  wrote  to  the 
Bishop  of  St.  Flour :  "  Bonaparte  is  dead ;  he  was  your 


I 


J  if 


N 


^. 


212 


rURGATORY. 


enemy,  for  he  persecuted  you.  I  think  you  will  say  a 
Mass  for  him ;  I  beg  also  that  you  say  a  Mass  on  my  be- 
half for  this  unfortunate  man." 

Turning  to  the  History  of  Rome,  it  will  be  of  interest 
to  take  a  glance  at  the  pious  Confraternity  dclla  Mortc 
which  was  instituted  in  1551,  and  regularly  established  in 
1560,  by  His  Holiness,  Pius  IV.  It  was  chiefly  composed 
of  citizens  of  high  rank.  Its  object  was  to  provide  burial 
for  the  dead.  Solemnly  broke  upon  the  balmy  stillness 
of  the  Roman  nights,  all  these  years  and  centuries  since 
its  foundation,  its  chanting  of  holy  psalmody,  and  its 
audible  praying  for  the  dead,  borne  along  in  its  religious 
keeping.  The  glare  of  the  waxen  torches  fell  upon  the 
bier,  the  voices  of  the  associates  joined  in  the  Miserere, 
and  the  Church  reached,  the  corpse  was  laid  there,  till 
the  fitting  hour,  when  the  Requiem  Mass  should  be  sung, 
and  the  final  absolution  given,  preparatory  to  interment. 

Florence  supplies  us  with  a  brilliant  picture  of  that 
sixth  day  of  July,  1439,  ^^e  feast  of  Saint  Romolo  the 
Martyr,  in  the  ninth  year  of  the  Pontificate  of  Pope 
Eugenius  IV.,  when  long-standing  differences  between 
the  Greek  and  Latin  Churches  were  brought  to  an  end  in 
a  most  amicable  manner.  Alas  !  for  the  Greeks,  that  they 
did  not  accept  the  decisions  of  that  day  as  final.  On  the 
22d  of  January,  1439,  Cosmo  de  Medici,  then  Gonfalonierc 
of  Florence,  received  the  Pope  and  his  cardinals,  with  a 
pomp  and  splendor  unknown  to  the  history  of  modern 
Europe.  On  the  12th  of  the  following  month  came  the 
Patriarch,  Joseph  of  Constantinople,  and  his  bishops  and 
theologians.  On  the  15th  arrived  the  Greek  Emperor, 
John  Paleologus,  who  was  received  at  the  Porto  San 
Gallo  by  the  Pope  and  all  his  cardinals,  the  Florentine 
Signory,  and  a  long  procession  of  the  members  of  the 
monastic  orders.  "  A  rare  and  very  remarkable  assem- 
blage," says  a  chronicler^  "of  the  most  learned  men  of 
Europe,  and,  indeed,  of  those  extra  European  seats  of  a 

'  T.  A.  Trollope,  in  '•  History  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Florence,"  Vol. 
III.,  pp.  137-8. 


HISTORICAL. 


ill  say  a 
1  my  be- 

intercst 
'a  Mortc 
lishcd  in 
)mposed 
le  burial 
stillness 
ies  since 

and  its 
■eligious 
tpon  the 
Miserere, 
licre,  till 
be  sung, 
::rment. 

of  that 
lolo  the 
3f  Pope 
between 
n  end  in 
riat  they 

On  the 
aloniere 
,  with  a 
modern 
ime  the 
ops  and 
mperor, 
rto  San 
3rentine 
:  of  the 

assem- 

men  of 
ats  of  a 

nee,"  Vol. 


m 


213 


past  culture,  which  were  even  nov/  giving  forth  the  last 
flashes  from  a  once  brilliant  light  on  the  point  of  being 
quenched  in  utter  darkness,  were  thus  assembled  at 
Florence." 

This  was  the  inauguration  of  the  far-famed  Council  of 
Florence,  which  had  the  result  of  settling  the  points  at 
issue  between  the  Eastern  and  Western  Churches.  "  The 
Greeks  confessed  that  the  Roman  faith  proceeded  rightly 
{procieeiere  bene),  and  united  themselves  with  it  by  the 
grace  of  God."  Proclamation  was  accordingly  made  in 
the  Cathedral,  then  called  Santa  Reparata,  that  the 
Greeks  had  agreed  to  hold  nnd  to  believe  the  five  dis- 
puted articles  of  which  the  fifth  was,  "  That  he  who  dies 
in  sin  for  which  penance  has  been  done,  but  from  which 
he  has  not  been  purged,  goes  to  Purgatory,  and  that  the 
divine  offices,  Masses,  prayers,  and  alms  are  useful  for  the 
purging  of  him," 

In  the  history  of  Ireland,  as  might  be  expected,  we 
come  upon  many  instances  wherein  the  dead  are  sol- 
emnly remembered  from  that  period,  when  still  pagan, 
and  one  of  the  ancient  manuscripts  gives  us  an  account  of 
certain  races,  it  calls  them,  which  were  held  for  "■  the 
souls  of  the  foreigners  slain  in  battle."  This  was  back  in 
the  night  of  antiquity,  and  was  no  doubt  some  relic  of 
the  Christian  tradition  which  had  remained  amid  the 
darkness  of  paganism.  But  to  come  to  the  Christian 
period.  The  famous  Hugues  de  Lasci,  or  Hugo  de  Lacy, 
Lord  of  Meath,  and  one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  in 
early  Irish  annals,  founded  many  abbeys  and  priories,  one 
at  Colpe,  near  the  mouth  of  the.  Boyne,  one  at  Duleek, 
one  at  Dublin,  and  one  at  Kells.  The  Canons  of  St. 
Augustine,  as  we  read,  "in  return  for  this  gift,  covenanted 
that  one  of  them  should  be  constantly  retained  as  a  chap- 
lain to  celebrate  Mass  for  his  soul  and  for  those  of  his 
ancestors  and  successors."  We  also  read  how  Marguer- 
ite, wife  of  Gualticr  de  Lasci,  brother  of  the  above,  gave 
a  large  tract  in  the  royal  forest  of  Acorncbury,  in  Here- 
fordshire, for  the  erection  of  a  nunnery  for  the  benefit  of 


It 


- 


W 


tS^SSSm 


■!    ' 


214 


PURGATORY. 


the  souls  of  her  parents,  Guillaumc  and  Mathilda  dc 
Braose,  who  with  their  son,  her  brother,  had  been  fam- 
ished in  the  dungeon  at  Windsor."  In  the  account  of  the 
death  in  Spain  of  Red  Hugh  O'Donnell,  who  holds  a 
high  place  among  the  chivalry  of  Ireland,  it  is  mentioned 
that  on  his  death-bed,  "  after  lamenting  his  crimes  and 
transgressions  ;  after  a  rigid  penance  for  his  sins  and  in- 
iquities ;  after  making  his  confession  without  reserve  to 
his  confessors,  and  receiving  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ ; 
after  being  duly  anointed  by  the  hands  of  his  own  con- 
fessors and  ecclesiastical  attendants,"  he  expired  after 
seventeen  days'  illness  at  the  king's  palace  in  Simancas. 
"  His  body,"  says  the  ancient  chronicler,  "  was  conveyed 
to  the  king's  palace  at  Valladolid  in  a  four-wheeled  hearse, 
surrounded  by  countless  numbers  of  the  king's  State 
officers,  council  and  guards,  with  luminous  torches  and 
bright  flambeaux  of  wax  lights  burning  on  either  side. 
He  was  afterwards  interred  in  the  monastery  of  St.  Fran- 
cis, in  the  Chapter,  precisely,  with  veneration  and  honor, 
and  in  the  most  solemn  manner  tliat  any  of  the  Gaels  had 
been  ever  interred  in  before.  Masses  and  many  hymns, 
chants  and  melodious  canticles  were  celebrated  for  the 
welfare  of  his  soul;  and  his  requiem  was  sung  with  be- 
coming solemnity." 

On  the  death  of  the  celebrated  Brian  Boroihme,  histori- 
ans relate  how  his  body  was  conveyed  by  the  clergy  to 
the  Abbey  of  Swords,  whence  it  was  brought  by  other 
portions  of  the  clergy  and  taken  successively  to  two  mon- 
asteries. It  was  then  met  by  the  Archbishop  of  Armagh, 
at  the  head  of  his  priesthood,  and  ^conveyed  to  Armagh, 
where  the  obsequies  were  celebrated  with  a  pomp  and  a 
fervor  worthy  the  greatness  and  the  piety  of  the  deceased 
monarch. 

In  view  of  the  arguments  which  arc  sometimes  adduced 
to  prove  that  the  early  Irish  Church  did  not  teach  this 
doctrine  of  prayer  for  the  dead,  it  is  curious  to  observe  how 
in  St.  Patrick's  second  Council  he  expressly  forbids  the 
holy  sacrifice  being  offered  up  after  death  for  those  who 


HISTORICAL. 


15 


L 


in  life  had  made  themselves  unworthy  of  such  suffrages. 
At  the  Synod  of  Cashel,  held  just  after  the  Norman  con- 
quest, the  claim  of  each  dead  man's  soul  to  a  certain  part 
of  liis  chattels  after  death  was  asserted.  To  steal  a  page 
from  the  time-worn  chronicles  of  Scotland,  it  is  told  by 
Theodoric  that  when  Queen  Marcfaret  of  Scotland,  that 
gentle  and  noble  character  upon  whom  the  Church  has 
placed  the  crown  of  canonization,  was  dying,  she  said  to 
him  :  "  Two  things  1  have  to  desire  of  thee  ;  "  and  one  of 
these  was  thus  worded,  "  that  as  long  as  thou  livest 
thou  wilt  remember  my  poor  soul  in  thy  Masses  and 
prayers."  It  had  been  her  custom  in  life  to  recite  the 
office  of  the  dead  every  day  during  Lent  and  Advent. 
Sir  Walter  Scott  mentions  in  his  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scot- 
tish Border  *'  a  curious  league  or  treaty  of  peace  between 
two  hostile  clans,  by  which  the  heads  of  each  became 
bound  to  make  the  four  pilgrimages  of  Scotland  for  the 
benefit  of  those  souls  who  had  fallen  in  the  feud."  In  the 
Bond  of  Alliance  or  Field  Staunching  Betwixt  the  Clans 
of  Scott  and  Ker  this  agreement  is  thus  worded  :  "That 
it  is  appointed,  agreed  and  finally  accorded  betwixt  hon- 
orable men,"  the  names  arc  here  mentioned,  *•  Walter  Ker 
of  Cessford,  Andrew  Ker  of  Fairniehcrst,"  etc.,  etc.,  "  for 
themselves,  kin,  friends,  maintenants,  assisters,  allies,  ad- 
herents, and  partakers,  on  the  one  part ;  and  Walter  Scott 
of  Branxholm,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  For  the  staunching  of  all  dis- 
cord and  variance  between  them  and  so  on,  amongst 
other  provisions,  that  "  the  said  Walter  Scott  of  Branx- 
holm shall  gang,  or  cause  gang,  at  the  will  of  the  party, 
to  the  four  head  pilgrimages  of  Scotland,  and  shall  say  a 
Mass  ibr  the  unquhile  Andrew  Ker  of  Cessford  and  them 
that  were  slain  in  his  company  in  the  field  of  Melrose ; 
and,  upon  his  expence,  shall  cause  a  chaplain  to  say  a 
Mass  daily,  when  he  is  disposed,  in  what  place  the  said 
Walter  Ker  and  his  friend  pleases,  for  the  weilof  the  said 
souls,  for  the  space  of  five  years  next  to  come.  Mark 
Ker  of  Dolphinston,  Andrew  Ker  of  Graden,  shall  gang 
at  the  will  of  the  party  to  the  four  head  pilgrimages  of 


I ; 


2l6 


PURGATORY. 


Scotland,  and  shall  gar  say  a  Mass  for  the  souls  of  the 
unquhile  James  Scott  of  Eskirk  and  other  Scots,  their 
friends,  slain  in  the  field  of  Melrose ;  and,  upon  their  ex- 
pence,  shall  gar  a  chaplain  say  a  Mass  daily,  when  he  is 
disposed,  for  the  heal  of  their  souls,  where  the  said  Wal- 
ter Scott  and  his  friend  pleases,  for  the  space  of  the  next 
three  years  to  come."  We  may  mention  that  the  four 
pilgrimages  are  Scoon,  Dundee,  Paisley,  and  Melrose. 
This  devotion  of  praying  for  the  dead  seems,  indeed,  to 
have  taken  strong  hold  upon  these  rude  borderers,  who. 
Sir  Walter  Scott  informs  us,  "  remained  attached  to  the 
Roman  Catholic  faith  rather  longer  than  the  rest  of  Scot- 
land." In  many  of  their  ancient  ballads,  at  some  of  which 
we  have  already  glanced,  this  belief  is  prominent.  The 
dying  man,  or  as  in  the  case  of  Clerk  Saunders,  the  ghost 
begs  of  his  survivors  to  "  wish  my  soul  good  rest."  This 
belief  is  intermingled  with  their  superstitions  as  in  that 
one  attached  to  Macduff's  Cross.  This  cross  is  situated 
near  Lindores,  on  the  marsh  dividing  Fife  from  Strathern. 
Around  the  pedestal  of  this  cross  are  tumuli,  said  to  be 
the  graves  of  those  who,  having  claimed  the  privilege  of 
the  law,  failed  in  proving  their  consanguinity  to  the 
Thane  of  Fife,  Such  persons  were  instantly  executed. 
The  people  of  New  burgh  believe  that  the  spectres  oi 
these  criminals  still  haunt  the  ruined  cross,  and  claim  that 
mercy  for  their  souls  which  they  had  failed  to  obtain  for 
their  mortal  existence. 

Thus  does  the  historian  ^  mention  the  burial  of  St.  Ni- 
nian,  one  of  the  favorite  Saints  of  the  Scots  :  "  He  was 
buried  in  the  Church  of  St.  Martin,  which  he  had  him- 
self built  from  the  foundation,  and  placed  in  a  stone  coflin 
near  the  altar,  the  clergy  and  people  standing  by  and  lift- 
ing up  their  heavenly  hymns  with  heart  and  voice,  with 
sighs  and  tears." 

In  the  treasurer's  books  which  relate  to  the  reign  of 
James  IV.  of  Scotland,  there  is  the  following  entry  for 
April,    1503:  ''The  king  v/ent  again  to  Whethorn."     (A 

MValsh's  Hist,  of  the  Cath.  Church  in  Scotland. 


I 


HISTORICAL. 


217 


of  the 
;,  their 
leir  ex- 
n  he  is 
d  Wal- 
he  next 
le  four 
[elrose. 
ieed, to 
•s,  who, 

to  the 
)f  Scot- 
f  which 
.  The 
e  ghost 
"    This 

in  that 
situated 
•athern. 
d  to  be 

lege  of 

to  the 
ecuted, 
:tres  ot 

im  that 

ain  for 

St.  Ni- 
-le  was 
d  hiin- 
e  coOin 
md  lift- 
e,  with 

leign  of 
try  for 
"    (A 


- 


L 


place  of  pilgrimage.)  "  While  there  he  heard  of  the  der.th 
of  his  brother,  John,  Earl  of  Mar,  and  charged  the  priests 
to  perform  a  *  dirge  and  soul  Mass '  for  his  brother,  and 
paid  them  for  their  pains." 

In  Montalembert's  beautiful  description  of  lona,  he 
mentions  the  tradition  which  declares  that  eiji:ht  Norwe- 
gian  kings  or  princes,  four  kings  of  Ireland,  and  forty- 
eight  Scottish  kings  were  buried  there,  as  also  one  king 
of  France,  whose  name  is  not  mentioned,  and  Egfrid,  the 
Saxon  King  of  Northumbria.  There  is  the  tomb  of  Rob- 
ert Bruce,  the  tombs  of  many  bishops,  abbots,  and  of  the 
great  chiefs  and  nobles,  the  Macdougalls,  Lords  of  Lorn ; 
the  Macdonalds,  Lords  of  the  Isles ;  the  Macleods,  and  the 
Macleans.  Nowhere,  perhaps,  has  death  placed  his  seal 
on  a  more  imposing  assemblage,  of  truly  royal  stateliness, 
of  astonishingly  cosmopolitan  variety.  In  the  midst  of  it 
all,  in  the  very  centre  of  the  burying-ground,  stands  a 
ruined  chapel,  under  the  invocation  of  St.  Oran,  the  first 
Irish  monk  who  died  in  this  region.  The  church  was 
built  by  the  sainted  Margaret,  the  wife  of  Malcolm  Can- 
more,  and  the  mother  of  St.  David.  Its  mission  there 
was  obvious.  From  its  altar  arose  to  the  Most  High,  the 
solemn  celebration  of  the  dread  mysteries,  the  psalm  and 
the  prayer,  for  prince  and  for  prelate,  for  the  great  alike 
in  the  spiritual  and  temporal  hierarchy. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle,  in  his  v.'ork  on  lona,  seems  aston- 
ished to  find  that  St.  Columba  believed  in  all  the  princi- 
pal truths  of  Catholic  faith,  amongst  others,  prayers*  for 
the  dead,  and  yet  he  considers  that  he  could  not  be  called 
a  Catholic.     The  process  of  reasoning  is  a  curious  one. 

Mention  is  made  in  the  history  of  Scotland  of  a  famous 
bell,  preserved  at  Glasgow  until  the  Reformation.  It 
was  supposed  to  have  been  brought  from  Rome  by  St. 
Kentigern,  and  was  popularly  called  "  St.  Mungo's  Bell." 
It  was  tolled  through  the  city  to  invite  the  citizens  to 
pray  for  the  repose  of  departed  souls. 

In  the  great  cathedrals  of  Scotland,  before  the  I^cforma- 
tion,  private  chapels  and  altars  were  endowed  for  the  re- 


2l8 


PURGATORY. 


lief  of  the  dead,  while  in  the  cities  and  large  towns,  each 
trade  or  corporation  had  an  altar  in  the  principal  churches 
and  supported  a  chaplain  to  offer  up  ^Iasses  and  prayers 
as  well  for  the  dead  as  for  the  living. 

The  following  incident  is  related  in  the  life  of  the  lovely 
and  so  sadly  maligned  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  In  the 
early  days  of  her  reign,  when  still  struggling  with  the  in- 
tolerant fury  of  Knox  and  his  followers, — it  was  in  the 
December  of  1561 — Mary  desired  to  have  solemn  Mass 
offered  up  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  her  deceased  hus- 
band, the  youthful  Francis.  This  so  aroused  the  fury  of 
the  fanatics  about  her,  that  they  threatened  to  take  the 
life  of  the  priests  who  had  officiated.  "  Immediately  after 
the  Requiem  was  over,  she  caused  a  proclamation  to  be 
made  by  a  Herald  at  the  Market  Cross,  that  no  man  on 
pain  of  his  life  should  do  any  injury,  or  give  offense  or 
trouble  to  her  chaplains." 

The  poet  Campbell  in  his  dirge  for  Wallace,  makes  the 
Lady  of  Elderslie,  the  hero's  wife,  cry  out  in  the  first  in- 
tensity of  her  sorrow ; 


r 


"  Now  sing  you  the  deatli-song  and  loudly  pray 
For  the  soul  of  my  kniglit  'so  dear.'" 

We  shall  now  leave  the  wild  poetic  region  of  Scotland, 
and  with  it  conclude  Part  First,  taking  up  again  in  Part 
Second  the  thread  of  our  narrative,  which  will  wind 
in  and  out  through  various  countries  of  Europe,  ending 
at  last  with  a  glance  at  our  own  America. 


i  t 


s,  each 
urchcs 
>raycrs 

lovely 
In  the 
the  in- 
in  the 
1  Mass 
;d  hus- 
fury  of 
ake  the 
ly  after 
1  to  be 
nan  on 
ense  or 

ikes  the 
tirst  in- 


;otland, 
n  Part 
1  wind 
ending 


HISTORICAL. 


219 


f 


t 


REMEMBRANCE    OF   THE   DEAD  THROUGHOUT    EUROPE. 

PART  II. 

In  Austria  we  find  an  example  of  devotion  to  the  dead, 
in  the  saintly  Empress  Eleanor,  who,  after  the  death  of 
her  husband,  the  Emperor  Leopold,  in  1705,  was  wont  to 
pray  two  hours  every  day  for  the  eternal  repose  of  his 
soul.  Not  less  touching  is  an  account  given  by  a  Protest- 
ant traveller  of  an  humble  pair,  whom  he  encountered  at 
Prague  during  his  wanderings  there.  They  were  father 
and  daughter,  and  attached,  the  one  as  bell-ringer,  the 
other  as  laundress,  to  the  Church  on  the  Visselirad.  He 
found  them  in  their  little  dwelling.  It  was  on  the  festival 
of  St.  Anne,  when  all  Prague  was  making  merry.  The 
girl  said  to  him :  "  Father  and  I  were  just  sitting  to- 
gether, and  this  being  St.  Anne's  Day,  we  were  thinking  of 
my  mother,  whose  name  was  also  Anne."  The  father 
then  said,  addressing  his  daughter :  "■  Thou  shalt  go  down 
to  St.  Jacob's  to-morrow,  and  have  a  INIass  read  for  thy 
mother,  Anne."  For  the  mother  who  had  been  long 
years  slumbering  in  the  little  cemetery  hard  by.  There  is 
something  touching  to  me  in  this  little  incident,  for  it  tells 
how  the  pious  memory  of  the  beloved  dead  dwelt  in 
these  simple  hearts,  dwells  in  the  hearts  of  the  people 
everywhere,  as  in  that  of  the  pious  empress,  whose  in- 
consolable sorrow  found  vent  in  long  hours  of  prayer  for 
the  departed. 

In  the  will  of  Christopher  Columbus  there  is  special 
mention  made  of  the  church  which  he  desired  should  be 
erected  at  Concepcion,  one  of  his  favorite  places  in  the 
New  World,  so  named  by  himself.  In  this  church  he 
arranged  that  three  Masses  should  be  celebrated  daily — 
the  first  in  honor  of  the  Blessed  Trinity ;  the  second,  in 
honor  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  ;  and  the  third  for  the 
faithful  departed.  This  will  was  made  in  May,  1506.  The 
body  of  the  great  discoverer  was  laid  in  the  earth,  to  the 


!'" 


■ill 


' 


t 

i 


I 


3=3= 


(*'" 


220 


PURGATORY. 


lasting-  shame  of  the  Spaniards,  with  but  little  other  re- 
membrance than  that  which  the  Churcli  gives  to  the 
meanest  of  her  children.  The  Franciscans,  his  first 
friends,  as  now  his  last,  accompanied  his  remains  to  the 
Cathedral  Church  of  Valladolid,  where  a  Requiem  Mass 
was  sung,  and  his  body  laid  in  the  vault  of  the  Obscrvan- 
tines  witii  but  little  pomp.  Later  on,  however,  the  king, 
in  remorse  for  past  neglect,  or  from  whatever  cause,  had 
the  body  taken  up  and  transported  with  great  pomp  to 
Seville.  There  a  Mass  was  simg,  and  a  solemn  funeral 
service  took  place  at  the  catliedral,  whence  the  corpse 
of  the  Admiral  was  conveyed  beyond  the  Guadal- 
quivir to  St.  jNIary  of  the  Grottoes  (Santa  Maria  de  las 
Grutas).  But  the  remains  of  this  most  wonderful  of  men 
were  snatched  from  the  silence  of  the  Carthusian  cloister 
some  ten  years  later,  and  taken  thence  to  Castile,  thence 
again  to  San  Domingo,  where  they  were  laid  in  the  sanc- 
tuary of  the  cathedral  to  the  right  of  the  main  altar. 
Again  they  were  disturbed  and  taken  on  board  the  brig- 
antinc  Discovery  to  tlie  Island  of  Cuba,  where  solemnly, 
once  more,  the  Requiem  for  the  Dead  swelled  out,  filling 
with  awe  the  immense  assembly,  comprising,  as  we  are 
told,  all  the  civil  and  military  notables  of  the  island. 

In  the  annals  of  the  Knight  Hospitallers  of  St.  John,  it 
is  recorded  that  after  a  great  and  providential  victory 
won  b}^  them  over  the  Moslem  foe,  and  by  the  fruits  of 
which  Rhodes  was  saved  from  falling  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy,  the  Grand  Master  D'Aubusson  proceeded  to 
the  Church  of  St.  John  to  return  thanks.  And  that  he 
also  caused  the  erection  of  three  churches  in  honor  of  Our 
Blessed  Lad}^  and  the  Patron  Saints  of  the  city.  These 
three  churches  were  endowed  for  prayers  and  Masses  to 
be  offered  in  perpetuity  for  the  souls  of  those  who  had 
fallen  in  battle.  This  D'Aubusson  was  in  all  respects  one 
of  the  most  splendid  knights  that  Christendom  has  pro- 
duced. A  model  of  Christian  knighthood,  he  is  unques- 
tionably one  of  the  greatest  of  the  renowned  Grand  Mas- 
ters of  St.  John.     There  is   a  touching  incident  told  in 


9« 


)^ 


brig- 


1^ 


HISTORICAL. 


221 


these  same  annals  of  two  knij^hts,  the  Chevalier  de  Scr- 
viciix,  counted  the  most  accomplished  gentleman  of  his 
day,  and  La  Roche  Pichelle.  Both  of  them  were  not 
only  the  flower  of  Christian  knighthood,  but  model  relig- 
ious as  well.  They  died  of  wounds  received  in  a  sea 
fight  off  Saragossa  in  1630,  and  on  their  death-beds  lay 
side  by  side  in  the  same  room,  consoling  and  exhorting 
each  other,  it  being  arranged  between  them,  that  whoever 
survived  the  longest  should  offer  all  his  pains  for  the  relief 
of  his  companion's  soul. 

We  have  now  reached  a  part  of  our  work,  upon  which 
we  shall  have  occasion  to  dwell  at  some  length,  and  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  it  has  already  formed  the  sub- 
ject of  two  preceding  articles.  It  is  that  which  relates  to 
England,  and  which  is  doubly  interesting  to  Catholics,  as 
being  the  early  record  of  what  is  now  the  chief  Protest- 
ant nation  of  Europe.  To  go  back  to  those  Anglo-wSaxon 
days,  which  might  be  called  in  some  measure  the  golden 
age  of  Catholic  faith  in  England,  we  shall  see  what  was 
the  custom  which  prevailed  at  the  moment  of  dissolution. 
In  the  regulations  which  follow  there  is  not  question  of  a 
monarch  nor  a  public  individual,  nor  of  priest  nor  prelate, 
but  simply  of  an  ordinary  Christian  just  dead.  "  The  mo- 
ment he  expired  the  bell  was  tolled.  Its  solemn  voice  an- 
nounced to  the  neij^hborhood  that  a  Christian  brother  was 
departed,  and  called  on  those  who  heard  it  to  recommend 
his  soul  to  the  mercy  of  his  Creator.  All  were  expected 
to  join,  privately,  at  least,  in  this  charitable  office  ;  and  in 
monasteries,  even  if  it  were  in  the  dead  of  night,  the  in- 
mates hastened  from  their  beds  to  the  church,  and  sang  a 
solemn  dirge.  The  only  persons  excluded  from  the  ben- 
efit of  these  prayers  were  those  who  died  avowedly  in  de- 
spair, or  under  the  sentence  of  excommunication. 

" .  .  .  .  Till  the  hour  of  burial,  which  was  often  de- 
layed for  some  days  to  allow  time  for  the  arrival  of 
strangers  from  a  distance,  small  parties  of  monks  or  cler- 
gymen attended  in  rotation,  either  watching  in  silent 
prayer  by  the  corpse  or  chanting  with  subdued  voice  the 


i.M! 


1 


i'i 


222 


PURGATORY. 


funeral  service.  .  .  .  When  the  necessary  prepara- 
tions were  completed,  the  body  of  the  deceased  was 
placed  on  a  bier  or  in  a  hearse.  On  it  lay  the  book  of 
the  Gospels,  the  code  of  his  belief,  and  the  cross,  the 
emblem  of  his  hope.  A  pall  of  linen  or  silk  was  thrown 
over  it  till  it  reached  the  place  of  interment.  The  friends 
were  invited,  strangers  often  deemed  it  a  duty  to  attend. 
The  clergy  walked  in  procession  before,  or  divided  into 
two  bodies,  one  on  each  side,  singing  a  portion  of  the 
psalter  and  generally  bearing  lights  in  their  hands.  As 
soon  as  they  entered  the  church  the  service  for  the  dead 
was  performed ;  a  INIass  of  requiem  followed ;  the  body 
was  deposited  in  the  grave,  the  sawlshot  paid,  and  a  lib- 
eral donation  distributed  to  the  poor."  ^ 

In  the  northern  portico  of  the  Cathedral  of  Canterbury 
was  erected  an  altar  in  honor  of  St.  Gregory,  where  a 
Mass  was  offered  every  Saturday  for  the  souls  of  de- 
parted archbishops.  We  read  that  OidilwLld,  King  of 
the  Deiri,  and  son  of  King  Oswald,  founded  a  monastery 
that  it  might  be  the  place  of  his  sepulture,  because  "  he 
was  confident  of  deriving  great  benefit  from  the  prayers 
of  those  who  should  serve  the  Lord  in  that  house."  Dun- 
wald  the  Thane,  on  his  departure  for  Rome  to  carry 
thither  the  alms  of  his  dead  m  i^tcr,  King  Ethelwald, 
A.D.  762,  bequeathed  a  dwelling  in  the  market  in  Queen- 
gate  to  the  Church  of  SS.  Peter  and  Paul  for  the  benefit  of 
the  king's  soul  and  his  own  soul." 

As  far  back  as  the  days  of  the  good  King  Arthur,whosc 
existence  has  been  so  enshrouded  in  fable  that  many  have 
come  to  believe  him  a  myth,  we  read  that  Queen  Guen- 
ever  II.,  of  unhappy  memory,  having  spent  her  last  years 
in  repentance,  was  buried  in  Ambrcabury,  Wiltshire.  The 
place  of  her  interment  was  a  monastery  erected  by  Aure- 
lius  Ambrose,  the  uncle  of  King  Arthur,  "  for  the  main- 
tenance of  three  hundred  monks  to  pray  for  the  souls  of 
the  British  noblemen  slain  by  Hengist."  Upon  her  tomb 
was  inscribed,  "in  rude  letters  of  massy  gold,"  to  quote 

* "  Lingard's  Antiquities  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  Church,"  Vol.  II.,  pp.  46-47. 


HIST 


irAL. 


223 


the  ancient  chronicler,  the  1  utiais  R    G.  and  the  date 
600  A.I). 

In  the  Saxon  annals  Enflcda,thc  wifi.  of  Os  v.  K'uvj  <>( 
Northumbria,  plays  a  conspicuous  part.  Sc  ,  aftrr  ,r 
marriai^c,  ()s\vin,hcr  luisband's  brother,  cons  jucntl}  kt 
cousin  and  brother-in-law,  was  slain.  The  f|«ic'cn  caused 
a  monastery  to  be  erected  on  the  spot  where  he  fell  as  a 
reparation  for  her  husband's  fratricide,  and  as  a  propiti- 
ation for  the  soul  of  the  departed.  This  circumstance  is 
alluded  to  by  more  than  one  English  poet,  as  also  the 
monastery  which  Enfleda,  for  the  same  purpose,  caused 
to  be  erected  at  Tynemouth.     Thus  Harding : 

"  Oucen  Enfleil,  that  wns  King  Oswy's  wife, 
King  Edwin,  his  daughter,  full  of  goodncssc, 
For  Oswyn's  soule  a  minster,  in  her  life, 
Made  at  Tynemouth,  and  for  Oswy  causeless 
That  hym  so  bee  slainc  and  killed  helpeless  ; 
For  she  was  kin  to  Oswy  and  Oswin, 
As  liedc  in  chronicle  dooeth  determyn." 

The  most  eminent  Catholic  poet  of  our  own  day,  Sir 
Aubrey  de  Vere,  in  his  Saxon  legends,  likewise  refers  to 
it.     He  describes  first  what 

"  Gentlest  form  kneels  on  the  rain-washed  ground, 
From  Giling's  Keep  a  stone's  throw.     Whose  those  hands 
Now  pressed  in  anguish  on  a  bursting  heart. 

What  purest  mouth 

*****  »  *  * 

Presses  a  new-made  grave,  and  through  the  blades 
Of  grass  wind  shaken,  breathes  her  piteous  prayer? 

Oswin's  grave  it  is, 

And  she  that  o'er  it  kneels  is  Eantleda, 
Kinswoman  of  the  noble  dead,  and  wife 
To  Oswin's  murderer — Oswy." 

Again,  describing  the  repentance  of  Oswy : 

"  One  Winter  night 
From  distant  chase  belated  he  returned, 
And  passed  by  Oswin's  grave.     The  snow,  new  fallen, 
Whitened  the  precinct.     In  the  blast  she  knelt, 


<J 


'ir** 


224  rURGATORV. 

She  hcanl  him  not  draw  ni^h.     She  only  beat 

Her  breast,  ami,  praying,  wept.     Our  sin  !  our  sin  ! 

41  >l<  IK  HI  ■)■  Id  « 

So  came  to  him  t!iose  words.     'I'hcy  drained  him  ch)wn  : 
lie  liuclt  beside  ids  wife,  and  licat  liis  iueast, 
And  said,  '  .My  sin  !  niy  sin  !'     'lill  earliest  morn 
(jlimmered  through  sleet  that  twain  wept  on,  prayed  on: — 
Was  it  tlie  rising;;  sun  that  lit  at  last 
Ti»e  (.ur  face  upwaril  lifted  ? 

Aloud  she  cried, 

'Our  prayer  is  heard  :  our  penitence  finds  grace,' 

Then  added  :  '  Let  it  deepen  till  we  die. 

A  monastery  l)uild  wc  on  this  grave: 

So  from  this  grave,  while  fleet  the  years,  that  pr.ayer 

Siiall  rise  both  day  and  night,  till  ('hrist  returns 

To  jiulge  the  world. — a  prayer  for  him  who  died  ; 

A  prayer  for  one  who  sinned,  but  sins  no  more !' " 

In  tlic  p^rant  preserved  in  the  Bodleian  Collection, 
wherein  Editha  the  Good,  the  widow  of  Edward  tiie  Con- 
fessor, confers  certain  lands  upon  the  Church  of  St.  Mary 
at  Sarum,  occurs  the  foUowinj^: 

"  I,  Editha,  relict  of  Kin^^  Edward,  give  to  the  support 
of  the  Canons  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  in  Sarum,  the  lands 
of  Secorstan,  in  ^Viltshire,  and  those  of  Eorinanburn,  to 
the  Monastery  of  Wherwell,  for  the  support  of  the  nuns 
servinj^  God  there,  with  the  rights  thereto  belonging,  for 
the  soul  of  King  Edward."' 

This  queen  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  her 
remains  being  removed  from  the  north  to  the  south  side 
of  St.  Edward's  shrine,  on  the  rebuilding  of  that  edifice, 
and  it  is  recorded  that  Henry  III.  ordered  a  lamp  to  be 
kept  burning  perpetually  at  the  tomb  of  Editha  the 
Good. 

It  is  related  of  the  celebrated  Lady  Godiva  of  Coven- 
try, the  wife  of  the  wealthy  and  powerful  Lcofric,  that  on 
her  death-bed  she  **  bequeathed  a  precious  circlet  of 
gems,  which  she  wore  round  her  neck,  valued  at  one 
hundred  marks  of  silver  (about  two  thousand  pounds 
sterling)  to  the  Image  of  the  Virgin  in  Coventry  Abbey, 

•  "PhlllipF/  Account  of  Old  Sarum." 


%t 


HISTORICAL. 


225 


14 


r 


prayinp^  that  all  wlio  came  tliitlicr  would  say  as  many 
prayers  as  there  were  j^eins  in  it."' 

Ihe  loUowing  is  an  aneient  verse,  occurrintj^  in  an  old 
Freneh  treatise,  on  tiie  manner  of  behaving  at  tabl.', 
wlierein  one  is  warned  never  to  arise  from  a  meal  witli- 
out  praying  for  the  dead.  This  treatise  was  translated 
by  William  Caxton. 


"  Prlcz  Dicu  pour  Ics  trcpasscs, 
Et  to  souvcigne  en  pitic 
^)iii  dc  cc  mondc  sont  passcz, 
Ainsi  que  lu  fs  olili^cz, 
I'lic/  Uicu  pour  Ics  trcpasscs  ! " 

[Wc  subjoin  a  rough  translation  of  the  verse. 

To  God,  for  the  departed,  pray 

And  of  those  in  pity  think 
"Who  have  passed  from  this  world  away, 
As,  indeed,  thou  art  bound  to  do, 

To  God,  for  the  departed  pray. J 

Speaking  of  his  early  education,  Caxton  says  : 
"  Whereof  I  humbly  and  heartily  thank  God,  and  am 
boundcn  to  pray  for  my  father  and  mother's  souls,  who  in 
my  youth  set  me  to  school."^ 

In  1067,  William  the  Conqueror  founded  what  was 
known  as  Battle  Abbey,  which  he  gave  to  the  Benedictine 
Monks,  that  they  might  pray  for  the  souls  of  those  who 
fell  in  the  Battle  of  Hastings.  Speaking  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  it  is  not  out  of  place  to  quote  here  these  lines 
from  the  pen  of  Mrs.  Hemans : 

"  Lowly  upon  his  bier 

The  royal  Conqueror  lay. 
Baron  and  chief  stood  near, 
Silent  in  war's  array. 

'  Saxon  Chronicle,  Strickland's  "  Queens  of  England  Before  the  Con 
quest,  etc." 

*"  Christian  Schools  and  Scholars." 


■I 
i  ■ 


w 


■i. 


!l 


i 


*  t; 


^gjsasBA 


226  PURGATORY. 

Down  the  long  minster's  aisle 

Crowds  mutely  gazing  stream'd, 
Altar  and  tomb  the  while 

Through  mists  of  incense  gleamed. 

The)'  lowered  him  with  the  sound 
Of  requiems  to  repose." 

These  stanzas  on  the  Burial  of  William  the  Conqueror 
lead  us  naturally  to  others  from  the  pen  of  the  same 
gifted  authoress  on  "  Coeur  de  Lion  at  the  Bier  of  his 
Father." 

"  Torches  were  blazing  clear, 

Hymns  pealing  deep  and  slow, 
Where  a  king  lay  stately  on  his  bier, 
In  the  Church  of  Fontevraud. 

The  marble  floor  was  swept 

By  many  a  long  dark  stole 
As  the  kneeling  priests,  round  him  that  slept, 

Sang  mass  for  the  parted  soul. 
And  solemn  were  the  strains  tiiey  pour'd 

Through  the  stillness  of  the  night, 
With  the  cross  above,  and  the  crown  and  sword. 

And  the  silent  king  in  sight." 

We  forgive  the  ignorance  of  the  gentle  poetess  with 
regard  to  the  Mass,  for  the  beauty  and  solemnity  of  the 
verse,  which  is  quite  in  keeping  with  the  nature  of  the 
subject. 

We  read,  again,  of  tapers  being  lit  at  the  tomb  of 
Henry  V.,  the  noble  and  chivalrous  Henry  of  Monmouth, 
for  one  hundred  years  after  his  death.  The  Reformation 
extinguished  that  gentle  flame  with  many  another  holy 
lire,  both  in  England  and  throughout  Christendom. 

We  shall  now  pass  on  to  another  period — a  far  different 
and  most  troublous  one  of  English  history,  that  of  the 
Reformation. 

In  the  Church  of  St.  Lawrence  at  Iswich  is  an  entry  of 
an  offering  made  to  "  pray  for  the  souls  of  Robert  Wol- 
sey  and  his  wife  Joan,  the  father  and  mother  of  the  Dean 
of  Lincoln,"  thereafter  to  be  Cardinal  and  Chancellor  of 


W 


\ 


^9 


1 


HISTORICAL. 


227 


the  Kingdom.  An  argument  urged  to  show  the  Protest- 
antism of  Collet,  one  of  the  ante-Reformation  worthies,  is 
that  he  "did  not  make  a  Popish  will,  having  left  no  mon- 
ies for  Masses  for  his  soul ;  which  shows  that  he  did  not 
believe  in  Purgatory."  The  dying  prayer  of  Sir  Thomas 
More  concludes  with  these  words :  "  Give  me  a  longing 
to  be  with  Thee ;  not  for  avoiding  the  calamities  of  this 
wicked  world,  nor  so  much  the  pains  of  Purgatory  or  of 
hell ;  nor  so  much  for  the  attaining  of  the  choice  of 
heaven,  in  respect  of  mine  own  commodity,  as  even  for 
a  very  love  of  Thee."  The  unfortunate  Anne  Boleyn, 
who  during  her  imprisonment  had  repented  and  received 
the  last  sacraments  from  the  hands  of  Father  Thirlwall, 
begs  on  the  scaffold  that  the  people  may  pray  for  her. 
In  her  address  to  her  ladies  before  leaving  the  Tower,  she 
concludes  it  by  begging  them  to  forget  her  not  after 
death.  "  In  your  prayers  to  the  Lord  Jesus  forget  not  to 
pray  for  my  soul."  In  the  account  of  the  death  of  an- 
other of  King  Henry's  wives,  the  Lady  Jane  Seymour, 
who  died,  as  Miss  Strickland  says,  after  having  all  the 
rites  of  the  Catholic  Church  administered  to  her,  we  read 
that  Sir  Richard  Gresham  thus  writes  to  Lord  Crom- 
well : 

**  I  have  caused  twelve  hundred  Masses  to  be  offered 
up  for  the  soul  of  our  most  gracious  Queen.  ...  I 
think  it  right  that  there  should  also  be  a  solemn  dirge  and 
high  Mass,  and  that  the  mayor  and  aldermen  should  pray 
and  offer  up  divers  prayers  for  Her  Grace's  soul." 

Anne  of  Cleves  some  two  years  before  her  death  like- 
wise embraced  the  Catholic  faith.  At  her  funeral  Mass 
was  sung  by  Bonner,  Bishop  of  London,  and  many  monks 
and  seculars  attended  her  obsequies.  The  infamous 
Thomas  Cromwell,  converted,  as  it  seems  evident  from 
contemporary  witnesses,  on  his  death-bed,  left  what 
might  be  called  truly  a  "  Popish  will."  After  bequeathing 
money  or  effects  to  various  relatives  and  friends,  he 
speaks  of  charity  "  works  for  the  health  of  my  soul."  "  I 
will,"  he  says,  **  that  my  executors  shall  sell  said  farm 


,  •!■■ 


I 


<i] 


t     I 


M 


i:i 


fsm 


m 


228 


PURGATORY. 


(Carberry),  and  the  money  thereof  to  be  employed  in 
deeds  of  charity,  to  prayer  for  my  soul  and  all  Christian 
souls."  Item.  "  I  will  mine  executors  shall  conduct  and 
hire  a  priest,  being  an  honest  person  of  continent  and 
good  living,  to  sing  (pray)  for  my  soul  for  the  space  of 
seven  years  next  after  my  death."  Item.  "  I  give  and  be- 
queath to  every  one  of  the  five  orders  of  Friars  within  the 
Citie  of  London,  to  pray  for  my  soul,  twenty  shillings. 

.     .     ."     He  further  bequeaths  £20  to  be  distributed 
amongst  "  poor  householders,  to  pray  for  his  soul." 

In  this  he  closely  resembled  his  royal  master,  Henry 
VIII.,  who  ordained  that  Masses  should  be  said  *'  for  his 
soul's  health   while  the  world  shall  endure."     And  after 
his  death  it  was  agreed  that  the  obsequies  should  be  con- 
ducted  according    to   the   observance   of  the    Catholic 
Church.     Church-bells  tolled  and  Masses  were  celebrated 
daily  throughout  London.    In  the  Privy  Chamber,  where 
the  corpse  was  laid,  "  lights  and  Divine  service  were  said 
about  him,  with  Masses,  obsequies,  etc."     After  the  body 
was  removed  to  the  chapel  it  was  kept  there  twelve  days, 
with  ''Masses  and  dirges  sung  and  said  everyday."  Nor- 
roy,  king  at  arms,  stood  each  day  at  the  choir  door,  say- 
ing: "Of your  charity  pray  for  the  soul  of  the  high  and 
mighty  prince,  our  late  sovereign  lord  and  king,  Henry 
VIII."      When  the  body  was  lowered  into  the  grave  we 
read  of  a  Ve  Profiuidis  being  read  over  it.      God  grant  it 
was  not  all  a  solemn  mockery,  this  praying  for  the  soul  of 
him  who  was  styled  "  the  first  Protestant  King  of  Eng- 
land," and  who  by  his  crimes  separated  England  from 
the   unity  of  Christendom !     May  these   "  Popish  prac- 
tices," which  were  amongst  those  he  in  his  ordinances 
condemned,  have  availed   him  in   that   life   beyond   the 
grave,  whither  he  went  to  give  an  account  of  his  steward- 
ship ! 

The  Catholic  Queen,  Mary,  after  her  accession  to  the 
throne,  caused  a  requiem  Mass  to  be  sung  in  Tower 
Chapel  for  her  brother,  Edward  the  Sixth.  Elizabeth, 
in  her  turn,  had  Mary   buried  with  funeral   hymn  and 


J 


H 


HISTORICAL. 


229 


Mass,  and  caused  a  solemn  dirge  and  Mass  of  Requiem 
to  be  chanted  for  the  soul  of  the  Emperor  Charles  V. 

With  this  period  of  spiritual  anarchy  and  desolation 
we  shall  take  our  leave  of  England,  passing  on  to  pause 
for  an  instant  to  observe  the  peculiar  cultus  of  the  dead  in 
Corsica.  It  is  represented  by  some  writers  as  being  sim- 
ilar to  that  which  prevailed  amongst  the  Romans.  But 
as  a  traveller  remarks,  "  it  is  a  curious  relic  of  paganism, 
combined  with  Christian  usages."  Thus  the  dirge  sung 
by  women,  their  wild  lamenting,  their  impassioned  apos- 
trophizing of  the  dead,  tneir  rhetorical  declamation  of 
his  virtues,  finds  its  analogy  among  many  of  the  customs 
of  pagan  nations,  while  the  prayer  for  the  dead,  "  the  rel- 
atives standing  about  the  bed  of  death  reciting  the 
Rosary,"  the  Confraternity  of  the  Brothers  of  the  Dead 
coming  to  convey  the  corpse  to  the  church,  where  Mass 
is  sung  and  the  final  absolution  given,  is  eminently  Chris- 
tian and  Catholic.  In  the  Norwegian  annals  we  read  how 
Olaf  the  Saint,  on  the  occasion  of  one  of  his  battles, 
gave  many  marks  of  silver  for  the  souls  of  his  enemies 
who  should  fall  in  battle. 

A  traveller  in  Mexico  relates  the  following :  "  I  remem- 
ber to  have  seen,"  he  says,  "  on  the  high  altar  of  the  dis- 
mantled church  of  Yanhuitlan  a  skull  as  polished  as 
ivory,  which  bore  on  the  forehead  the  following  inscrip- 
tion in  Spanish : 

lo  soy 
Jesus  Pedro  Sandoval  ; 
un  Ave  Maria  y  un  Padre  Nuestro, 
por  Dios,  hermanos  ! ' 

"  I  am  Jesus  Pedro  Sandoval  ;  a   Hail  !Mary  and  an  Our  Father  for  the 
love  of  God,  my  brother." 

"  I  cannot  conceive,"  he  continues,  "  anything  more 
heart-rending  than  the  great  silent  orbs  of  this  dead  man 
staring  me  fixedly  in  the  face,  whilst  his  head,  bared  by 
contact  with  the  grave,  sadly  implored  my  prayers."" 

'  Ferdinand  Gregorovius,  "  Wanderings  in  Corsica,"  translated  by  Alex- 
ander Muir. 

*  "  Deux  Ans  au  Mcxiquc,"  Fauchcr  de  St.  Maurice. 


1^^ 


^m 


^^ 


\  \ 


i 


Ml 


^> 


■-■^^.■M,^^:,,.:  ,->.^.,:r 


.~f.?^,'  tef^. 


.M..^«  «.:..,■,■.>.■.  ■,.:^^.^  ■■«l.«^->-.*»«MMa 


HHHBfl 


230 


PURGATORY. 


It  would  be  impossible  to  conclude  our  o//a  podrida,  if 
1  may  venture  on  the  expression,  of  historical  lore,  re- 
lating to  the  dead,  without  referring,  however  briefly,  to 
the  two  great  deaths,  and  consequently  the  magnificent 
obsequies  which  have  marked  this  very  year  of  1885,  in 
which  we  write.    Those  of  Archbishop  Bourget,  of  Mont- 
real, and  of  His  Eminence,  Cardinal  McCloskcy,  of  New 
York.     They  were  both  expressions  of  national  sorrow, 
and  the  homage  paid  by  sorrowing  multitudes  to  true 
greatness.      On   the    loth   of  June,    1885,  the  venerable 
Archbishop  Bourget  died  at  Sault-au-Recollet,  and  was 
brought   on   the   following   morning  to  the  Church  of 
Notre  Dame,  Montreal.     The  days  that  ensued  were  all 
days  of  Requiem.     Psalms  were  sung,  and  the  office  of 
the  dead  chanted  by  priests  of  all  the  religious  orders  in 
succession,  b}'^  the  various  choirs  of  the  city,  by  the  secu- 
lar clergy,  and  by  lay  societies.     Archbishops  and  bish- 
ops sang  high  Mass  with  all  the  pomp  of  oar  holy  ritual, 
and  the  prayers  of  the  poor  for  him  who  had  been  their 
benefactor,  mingled  with  those  of  the  highest  in  the  land, 
and  followed  the  beloved  remains  from  the  bed  of  death 
whence  they  were  taken  down  into  the  funeral  vault.   On 
the  loth  of  October,   1S85,  His  Eminence  the  Cardinal 
Archbishop  of  New  York  passed  peacefully  away,  amidst 
the  grief  of  the  whole  community,  both  Protestant  and 
Catholic.     Again,  there  was  a  very  ovation  of  prayer. 
The  obsequies  were  marked  by  a  splendor  such  as,  ac- 
cording to  a  contemporary  journal,   had   never   before 
attended  any  ecclesiastical  demonstration  on  this  side  of 
the  water.    The  clergy,  secular  and  religious,  formed  one 
vast  assemblage,  while  layman  vied  with  layman  in  show- 
ing  honor  to  the  dead,  and  in  praying  for   the  soul's 
repose.     "  All   that   man   could   do,"   says   a   prominent 
Catholic  journal,  "to  bring  honor  to  his  bier  was  done, 
and  in  honor  and  remembrance  his  memory  remains.    All 
that  Mother  Church  could  offer  as  suffrage  for  his  soul 
has  been  offered." 
That  is  wherein  the  real  beauty  of  it  all  consists.    Honor 


HISTORICAL. 


:3i 


•n 


to  the  great  dead  may,  it  is  true,  be  the  splendid  expres- 
sion of  national  sentiment.  But  in  the  eyes  of  faith  it  is 
meaningless.  Other  great  men,  deservedly  honored  by 
the  nations,  have  passed  away  during  this  same  year,  but 
where  was  the  prayer,  accompanying  them  to  the  judg- 
ment-seat, assisting  them  in  that  other  life,  repairing  their 
faults,  purging  away  sins  or  imperfections?  The  gran- 
deur that  attended  Mgr.  Bourget's  burial  and  Cardinal 
ISIcCloskey's  obsequies  consisted  chiefly  in  that  vast  sym- 
phony of  prayer,  which  arose  so  harmoniously,  and 
during  so  many  days,  for  their  soul's  welfare. 

Devotion  to  the  dead,  as  we  have  seen,  exists  every- 
where, is  everywhere  dear  to  the  hearts  of  the  people, 
from  those  first  early  worshippers,  who,  in  the  dawn  of 
Christianity,  in  the  dimness  of  the  Catacombs  prayed  for 
the  souls  of  their  brethren  in  Christ,  begging  that  they 
might  "live  in  God,"  that  God  might  refresh  them, 
down  through  the  ages  to  our  own  day,  increasing  as  it 
goes  in  fervor  and  intensity.  Wc  meet  with  its  records, 
written  boldly,  so  to  say,  on  the  brow  of  nations,  or  in 
cut-of-the-way  corners,  down  among  the  people,  in  the 
littleness  and  obscurity  of  humble  domestic  annals.  In 
the  earliest  liturgies,  in  the  most  ancient  sacramentaries, 
there  is  the  prayer  for  "  refreshmci:it,  light,  and  peace,"  as 
it  is  now  found  in  the  missals  used  at  the  daily  sacrifice, 
on  the  lips  of  the  priest,  in  the  prayers  of  the  humblest 
and  most  unlettered  petitioner.  It  is  the  "  low  murmur 
of  the  vale,"  changing,  indeed,  at  times  into  the  thunder 
on  the  mountain  tops,  amazing  the  unbelieving  world 
which  stands  aloof  and  stares,  as  in  the  instances  but 
lately  quoted,  or  existing  forgotten,  and  overlooked  by 
them,  but  no  less  deep  and  solemn.  It  is  a  Requiem 
ALternam  pervading  all  time,  and  ceasing  only  with  time 
itself,  when  the  Eternity  of  rest  for  the  Church  Militant 
has  begun. 


I       »i 


.€ 


mor 


h 


232 


PURGATORY. 


PRAYER  FOR  THE  DEAD  IN  THE  ANGLO-SAXON  CHURCH. 


UR.    LINGAUD. 


I 


The  Anglo-Saxons  had  inherited  from  their  teachers 
the  practice  of  prayer  for  the  dead — a  practice  common 
to  every  Christian  Church  which  dates  its  origin  from 
any  period  before  the  Reformation.  It  was  not  that  they 
pretended  to  benefit  by  their  prayers  the  blessed  in 
heaven,  or  the  reprobate  in  hell ;  but  they  had  never 
heard  of  the  doctrine  which  teaches  that  "  every  soul  ot 
man,  passing  out  of  the  body,  gocth  immediately  to  one  or 
other  of  those  places  "  (Book  of  Homilies.  Hom.  VII.  On 
Prayer).  And  therefore  assuming  that  God  will  render 
to  all  according  to  their  works,  they  believed  that  the 
souls  of  men  dying  in  a  state  of  less  perfect  virtue,  though 
they  might  not  be  immediately  admitted  to  the  supreme 
felicity  of  the  saints,  would  not,  at  least,  be  visited  with 
the  everlasting  punishment  of  the  wicked.^  It  was  for 
such  as  these  that  they  prayed,  that  if  they  were  in  a 
state  of  imperfect  happiness,  that  happiness  might  be 
augmented ;  if  in  a  state  of  temporary  punishment,  the 
severity  of  that  punishment  might  be  mitigated  ;  and  this 
they  hoped  to  obtain  from  the  mercy  of  God,  in  consid- 
eration of  their  prayers,  fasts,  and  alms,  and  especially  of 
the  "  oblation  of  the  most  Holy  Victim  in  the  Sacrifice  of 
the  Mass." 

This  was  a  favorite  form  of  devotion  with  our  ances- 
tors. It  came  to  them  recommended  by  the  practice  ot 
all  antiquity  ;  it  was  considered  an  act  of  the  purest  char- 

*  "Some  souls  proceed  to  rest  alter  their  departure;  some  go  to  punish- 
ment for  that  which  they  have  done,  and  arc  often  released  by  alms-deeds, 
but  chiefly  through  the  Mass,  if  it  be  offered  for  them  ;  others  are  con- 
demned to  hell  with  tlie  devil."  (Scrm.  ad.  Pop.  in  Oct.  Pent.)  "There 
be  many  places  of  punishment,  in  which  souls  suffer  in  proportion  to  their 
guilt  before  the  general  judgment,  so  that  some  of  them  are  fully  cleansed, 
and  have  nothing  to  suffer  in  that  fire  of  the  last  day."  (Horn.  apud.  Whe- 
lock,  p.  386.) 


^ 


HISTORICAL. 


233 


-J  • 


J 


J 


ity  on  behalf  of  those  who  could  no  longer  pray  for  them- 
selves ;  it  enlisted  in  its  favor  the  feelings  of  the  survivor, 
who  was  thus  enabled  to  intercede  with  God  for  his 
nearest  and  dearest  friends,  and  it  opened  at  the  same 
time  to  the  mourner  a  source  of  real  consolation  in  the 
hour  of  bereavement  and  distress.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
that  the  petitioners  knew  not  the  state  of  the  departed 
soul ;  he  might  be  incapable  of  receiving  any  benefit  from 
their  prayers,  but  they  reasoned,  with  St.  Augustine, 
that,  even  so,  the  piety  of  their  intentions  would  prove 
acceptable  to  God.  When  Alcuin  heard  that  Edilthryde, 
a  noble  Saxon  lady,  lamented  most  bitterly  the  death  of 
her  son,  he  wrote  to  her  from  his  retreat  at  Tours,  in  the 
following  terms  : — "  Mourn  not  for  him  whom  you  cannot 
recall.  If  he  be  of  God,  instead  of  grieving  that  you 
have  lost  him,  rejoice  that  he  is  gone  to  rest  before  you. 
Where  there  are  two  friends,  I  hold  the  death  of  the  first 
preferable  to  that  of  the  second,  because  the  first  leaves 
behind  him  one  whose  brotherly  love  will  intercede  for 
him  daily,  and  whose  tears  will  wash  away  the  frailties 
of  his  life  in  this  world.  Be  assured  that  )'our  pious 
solicitude  for  the  soul  of  your  son  will  not  be  thrown 
away.  It  will  benefit  both  you  and  him — you,  because 
you  exercise  acts  of  hope  and  charity  ;  him,  because  such 
acts  will  tend  either  to  mitigate  his  sufferings,  or  to  add 
to  his  happiness."  ^ 

But  they  did  not  only  pray  for  others,  they  were  care- 
ful to  secure  for  themselves,  after  their  departure,  the 
prayers  of  their  friends.  This  they  frequently  solicited 
as  a  favor  or  recompense,  and  for  this  they  entered  into 
mutual  compacts  by  which  the  survivor  was  bound  to 
perform  certain  works  of  piety  or  charity  for  the  soul  of 
the  deceased.  Thus  Beda  begs  of  the  monks  of  Lindis- 
farnc  that,  at  his  death,  they  will  offer  prayers  and  INIasses 
for  him  as  one  of  their  own  body ;  thus  Alcuin  calls  upon 
his  former  scholars  at  York  to  remember  him  in  their 
prayers  when  it  shall  please  God  to  withdraw  him  from 

'  Ep.  Cli,     Tom.  I.,  p. 


r  I;  •' 


«  •'   'I 


•'■ 


..! 


21: 


f^ 


^'-^-mi^^mmie^^S^ 


234 


PURGATORY. 


this  world ;  and  thus  in  the  multifarious  correspondence 
of  St.  Boniface,  the  apostle  of  Germany,  and  of  Lullus, 
his  successor  in  the  See  of  Mentz,  both  of  them  Anirlo- 
Saxons,  with  their  countrymen,  prelates,  abbots,  thanes, 
and  princes,  we  meet  with  letters  the  only  object  of  which 
is  to  renew  their  previous  engagements,  and  to  transmit 
the  names  of  their  defunct  associates.  Ic  is  "our  earnest 
wish,"  say  the  King  of  Kent  and  the  Bishop  of  Rochester 
in  their  common  letter  to  Lullus,  "  to  recommend  our- 
selves and  our  dearest  relatives  to  your  piety,  that  by 
your  prayers  we  may  be  protected  till  we  come  to  that 
life  which  knows  no  end.  For  what  have  we  to  do  on 
earth  but  faithfully  to  exercise  charity  towards  each 
other?  Let  us  then  agree,  that  when  any  among  us 
enter  the  path  which  leads  to  another  life  (may  it  be  a 
life  of  happiness),  the  survivors  shall,  by  their  alms  and 
sacrifices,  endeavor  to  assist  him  in  his  journey.  We 
have  sent  you  the  names  of  our  deceased  relations,  Irm- 
ige,  Vorththry,  and  Dulicha,  virgins  dedicated  to  God, 
and  beg  that  you  will  remember  them  in  your  prayers 
and  oblations.  On  a  similar  occasion  we  will  prove  our 
gratitude  by  imitating  your  charity." 

Such  covenants  were  not  confined  to  the  clergy,  or  to 
persons  in  the  higher  ranks  of  life.  England,  at  this 
period,  was  covered  with  "  gilds,"  or  associations  of 
townsmen  and  neighbors,  not  directly  for  religious  pur- 
poses, but  having  a  variety  of  secular  objects  in  view, — 
such  as  the  promotion  of  trade  and  commerce,  the  pres- 
ervation of  property  and  the  prosecution  of  thieves,  the 
legal  defence  of  the  members  against  oppression,  and  the 
recovery  of  bots,  or  penalties,  to  which  they  were  entitled  ; 
but  whatever  might  be  their  chief  object,  all  imposed  one 
common  obligation,  that  of  accompanying  the  bodies  of 
the  deceased  members  to  the  grave,  of  paying  the  soul-shot 
for  them  at  their  interment,  and  of  distributing  alms  for 
the  repose  of  their  souls.  As  a  specimen  of  such  engage- 
ments, I  may  here  translate  a  portion  of  the  laws  estab- 
lished in  the  gild  at  Abbotsbury.    "  If,"  says  the  legisla- 


\ 


or  to 

this 

ms    of 


stab- 
risla- 


i 


HISTORICAL. 


235 


tor,  "  any  one  belonging  to  this  association  chance  to 
die,  each  member  shall  pay  one  penny  for  the  good  of 
the  soul,  before  the  body  be  laid  in  the  grave.  If  he 
neglect,  he  shall  be  fined  in  a  triple  sum.  If  any  of  us  fall 
sick  within  sixty  miles,  we  engage  to  find  fifteen  men, 
who  may  bring  him  home;  but  if  he  die  first,  we  will 
send  thirty  to  convey  him  to  the  place  in  which  he  de- 
sired to  be  buried.  If  he  die  in  the  neighborhood,  the 
steward  shall  inquire  where  he  is  to  be  interred,  and  shall 
summon  as  many  members  as  he  can  to  assemble,  attend 
the  corpse  in  an  honorable  manner,  carry  it  to  the  min- 
ster, and  pray  devoutly  for  the  soul.  Let  us  act  in  this 
manner,  and  we  shall  truly  perform  the  duty  of  our  con- 
fraternity. This  will  be  honorable  to  us  both  before  God 
and  man.  For  we  knov/  not  who  among  us  may  die 
first ;  but  we  believe  that,  with  the  assistance  of  God, 
this  agreement  will  profit  us  all  if  it  be  rightly  observed." 
But  the  clerical  and  monastic  bodies  inhabiting  the 
more  celebrated  monasteries  offered  guildships  of  a  supe- 
rior description.  Among  them  the  service  for  the  dead 
was  performed  with  greater  solemnity ;  the  rules  of  the 
institute  insured  the  faithful  performance  of  the  duty ; 
and  additional  value  was  ascribed  to  their  prayers  on  ac- 
count of  the  sanctity  of  the  place  and  the  virtue  of  its 
inmates.  Hence  it  became  an  object  with  many  to 
obtain  admission  among  the  brotherhood  in  quality  of 
honorary  associates ;  an  admission  which  gave  them  the 
right  to  the  same  spiritual  benefits  after  death  to  which 
the  professed  members  were  entitled.  Such  associates 
were  of  two  classes.  To  some  the  favor  was  conceded 
on  account  of  their  reputation  for  piety  or  learning  ;  to 
others  it  was  due  on  account  of  their  benefactions.  In- 
stances of  both  abound  in  the  Ani?clo-Saxon  records. 
Beda,  though  a  monk  at  Jarrow,  procured  his  name  to 
be  entered  for  this  purpose  on  the  bead-roll  of  the  monks 
at  Lindisfarne ;  and  Alcuin,  though  a  canon  at  Tours, 
in  France,  had  obtained  a  similar  favor  from  the  monks 
at  Jarrow.     It  belonged,  of  right,  to  the  founders  of 


i 


^i 


If 


I 


4  K 


li 


I 


sai£5i'«lii..tdlIK^".  JtMalt4-< 


236 


PURGATORY. 


churches,  to  those  who  liad  made  to  them  valuable  bencfac- 
ti(^ns/  or  had  rendered  to  them  important  services,  or  had 
becjueathed  to  them  a  yearly  rent  charge '  for  that  purpose. 
Of  all  these  individuals  an  exact  catalogue  was  kept; 
the  days  of  their  decease-'  were  carefully  noted,  and  on 
their  anniversaries  a  solemn  service  of  Masses  and  psalm- 
ody was  yearly  performed/'  It  may  be  easily  conceived 
that  to  men  of  timorous  and  penitent  minds  this  custom 
would  afford  much  consolation.  However  great  might 
be  their  deficiencies,  yet  they  hoped  that  their  good 
works  would  survive  them ;  they  had  provided  for  the 
service  of  the  Almighty  a  race  of  men,  whose  virtues 
they  might  in  one  respect  call  their  own,  and  who  were 
bound,  by  the  strongest  ties,  to  be  their  daily  advocate  at 
the  throne  of  divine  mercy.'     Such  were  the  sentiments 

'  When  Osulf,  caldorman,  by  the  p;rncc  of  God,  gave  the  land  at  Stan- 
hamstcdo  to  Christ  Church,  lie  most  humbly  prayed  that  ho  and  his  wife, 
Beornihrytho,  might  be  admitted  "  into  the  fellowship  of  God's  servants 
there,  and  of  their  lords  who  had  been,  and  of  those  who  had  given  lands 
to  the  Churcii." — Cod.  Dipl.  I.  292.  The  following  is  an  instance  of  a 
rent  cliarge  given  by  Ealburge  and  Eadwald  to  Christ  Church  for  them- 
selves, and  fur  Ealred  and  Ealwyne  forty  anibres  of  malt,  two  hundred 
loaves,  one  wcy,  S:c.,  8zc.  ;  "and  I,  Ealburge,"  she  adds,  "command  my 
son  Ealwyne,  in  the  name  of  God,  and  of  all  the  saints,  that  he  perform  this 
duty  in  his  day,  and  then  command  his  heirs  to  perform  it  as  long  as 
Christendom  shall  endure." 

^  I  Monast,  Ang.  i.  278.  A  similar  regulation  is  found  among  the  laws 
of  the  gild  in  London.  "And  ye  have  ordained  respecting  every  man  who 
has  given  his  'wed'  in  our  gildships,  if  he  should  die,  that  each*  gild 
brother  shall  give  a  'genuine  loaf  for  his  soul,  and  sing  a  ditty,  or  get  it 
sung,  within  thirty  days." — Thorpe's  Laws  of  London  Gilds, 

^According  to  Wanly  there  is  in  the  Cotton  Library  (Dom.  A.  7)  of  the 
reign  ol  Athelstan,  in  which  the  names  of  the  chief  benefactors  of  the  Church 
of  Lindisfarne  are  written  in  letters  of  gold  and  silver,  which  catalogue  was 
afterwards  continued,  but  not  in  the  same  manner  (Wanly,  249).  This  is 
probably  the  same  book  which  was  published  in  1841  by  the  Surtees  Society, 
under  the  name  of  Liber  Vita  Ecclcsia  Dttnelinensis.  It  contains  the  names 
of  all  the  benefactors  of  St.  Cuthbert's  Church  from  its  foundation,  and  lay 
constantlv  on  'lie  altar  for  upwards  of  six  centuries. 

^  Thus  when  Lcofric  e-tablished  canons  in  the  Ciuirch  of  Exeter,  he  made 
them  several  valuable  presents,  on  condition  that,  in  their  prayers  and 
Masses,  they  should  always  remember  his  soul,  "  that  it  might  be  the  more 
pleasing  to  God."     Monas.  Ang.  torn  i.  p.  222. 


HISTORICAL. 


237 


F  ■  -i 


bcncfac- 
3,  or  liad 
purpose. 
IS  kept; 
,  and  on 
1  i)salm- 
mccivcd 
custom 
t  mii^lit 
r  good 
for  the 
virtues 
lo  were 
:>catc  at 
timents 

1  at  Stan- 

liis  wife, 

i  servants 

^en  lands 

incc  of  a 

for  thcm- 

hun  tired 

nand   my 

!'orm  this 

long  as 

tlic  laws 
nan  who 
ich»gild 
or  get  it 

)  of  the 
Church 
?iie  was 
This  is 
Society, 
names 
and  hiy 

c  made 
;rs  and 
c  more 


of  Alwyn,  the  caldorman  of  East  Anglia,  and  one  of  tlie 
founders  of  Ramsey.  Warned  by  frequent  inrnmitics  of 
liis  approaching^  death,  he  repaired,  attended  by  his  sons 
lulwin  and  l-Xhehvard,  to  the  abbey.  The  monies  were 
speedily  assembled.  "  My  beloved,"  said  he,  "  you  will 
soon  lose  your  friend  and  protector.  My  strciij^th  is 
gone:  I  am  stolen  from  myself.  IJut  I  am  not  afiaid  to 
die.  When  life  grows  tedious  death  is  welcome.  To-day 
I  shall  confess  before  you  the  many  errors  of  my  life. 
Think  not  that  1  wish  to  solicit  a  prolongation  of  my 
existence.  My  recpiest  is  that  you  protect  my  departure 
by  your  prayers,  and  place  your  merits  in  the  balance 
against  my  defects.  When  my  soul  shall  have  quitted 
my  body,  honor  your  father's  corpse  with  a  decent  fime- 
ral,  grant  him  a  constant  share  in  your  prayers,  and 
recommend  his  memory  to  the  charity  and  gratitude 
of  your  successors."  At  the  conclusion  of  iu3  address 
the  aged  thane  threw  himself  on  the  pavement  before 
the  altar,  and,  with  a  voice  interrupted  by  frequent 
sighs,  publicly  confessed  the  sins  of  his  past  years,  and 
earnestly  implored  the  mercies  of  his  Redeemer.  .  .  . 
He  exhorted  the  brethren  to  a  punctual  observance  of 
their  rule,  and  forbade  his  sons,  under  their  father's  male- 
diction, to  molest  them  in  possession  of  the  lands  which 
he  had  bestowed  on  the  abbey.  .  .  .  Within  a  few 
\veeks  he  died,  his  body  was  interred  with  proper  solem- 
nity in  the  Church ;  and  his  memory  was  long  cherished 
with  gratitude  by  the  monks  of  Ramsey.^ 

There  were  three  kinds  of  good  works  usually  per- 
formed for  the  benefit  of  the  dead  :  One  consisted  in  the 
distribution  of  charity.  To  the  money,  which  the  de- 
ceased, if  he  were  in  opulent  or  in  easy  circumstances, 
bequeathed  for  that  purpose,  an  addition  was  often  made 
by  the  contributions  of  his  relatives  and  friends.  Large 
sums  were  often  distributed  in  this  manner.  King  Alfred 
the  Great  says  in  his  w^ill:  "Let  there  be  given  for  me, 
and  for  my  father,  and  for  the  friends  that  he  prayed  for, 

*  Hist.  Rames,  p.  427. 


».! 


■ 


•■  I .;, 


238 


rUUGATOKY. 


and  that  I  pray  for,  two  hundred  pounds  ;  fifty  amon^^  the 
Mass-priests  tliroui^liout  my  kin<^(l()m  ;  fifty  anion<^  the 
servants  of  God  that  are  in  need,  fifty  amonj^  lay  paupers, 
and  fifty  to  the  church  in  which  my  body  shall  rest."' 
Archbisho[)  Wulfred  in  his  will,  (an.  831)  made  provision 
for  the  permanent  support  and  clothinj^  of  twenty-seven 
paupers,  out  of  the  income  from  certain  manors  which,  at 
his  own  cost  and  labor,  he  had  recovered  for  tlie  Church 
of  Canterbury.  Frequently  the  testator  bequeathed  a 
yearly  dole  of  money  and  provisions  to  the  poor  on  the 
anniversary  of  his  death.  Thus  the  cler«^y  of  Christ- 
church  f^ave  away  one  hundred  and  twenty  suffles,  or 
cakes  of  fine  flour,  on  the  anniversaries  of  each  of  their 
lords,  by  which  word  we  arc  probably  to  understand 
archbishops;  but  Wulfred  \vas  not  content  with  his  ac- 
customed charity  ;  he  aui^mcnted  it  tenfold  on  his  own 
anniversary,  havin<2^  bequeathed  a  loaf,  a  certain  quantity 
of  cheese,  and  a  silver  penny  to  be  delivered  to  twelve 
hundred  poor  persons  on  that  day.  Of  such  dole  some 
vestij^es  still  remain  in  certain  parts  of  the  kinj^dom. 

Another  species  of  charity,  at  the  death  of  the  upper 
ranks,  was  the  grant  of  freedom  to  a  certain  number  of 
slaves,  whose  poverty,  to  render  the  gift  more  valuable, 
was  relieved  with  a  handsome  present.  In  the  Council 
of  Calcuith,  it  was  unanimously  agreed  that  each  prelate 
at  his  death  should  bequeath  the  tenth  part  of  his  personal 
property  to  the  poor,  and  set  at  liberty  all  bondmen  of 
English  descent,  whom  the  Church  had  acquired  during 
his  administration ;  and  that  each  bishop  and  abbot  who 
survived  him,  should  manumit  three  of  his  slaves,  and 
give  three  shillings  to  each,  for  the  benefit  of  the  soul  of 
the  deceased  prelate. 

The  devotions  in  behalf  of  the  dead  consisted  in  the 
frequent  repetition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  technically 
called  a  belt  of  Paternosters,  which  was  in  use  with  pri- 
vate individuals,  ignorant  of  the  Latin  tongue  ;  2d,  in  the 
chanting  of  a  certain  number  of  psalms,  generally  fifty, 

'  Cod.  Diplom  §  i,  115. 


HISTORICAL. 


239 


tcrminatinpf  with  tlic  collect  for  the  dead,  dm  inp^  which 
collect  all  knelt  down,  and  then  repeated  the  anthem  in 
Latin  or  luij^lish:  "  Accord injjf  to  Thy  ^reat  mercy  ^ivc 
rest  to  his  sonl,  ()  Lord,  and  of  Thine  intinitc  hounty 
grant  to  him  eternal  light  in  the  company  of  the  saints;"' 
3d,  in  the  sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  which  was  ofU'red  as 
soon  as  might  be  after  death,  again  on  the  third  day,  and 
afterwards  as  often  as  was  required  by  the  solicitude  of 
the  relatives  or  friends  of  the  deceased.  No  sooner  had 
St.  Wilfred  expired  than  Talbert,  to  whom  he  had  in- 
trusted the  government  of  his  monasterv  at  Kijx)!!,  or- 
dered a  Mass  to  be  celebrated,  and  alms  to  be  distributed 
daily  for  his  soul.  On  his  anniversary  the  abbots  of  all 
the  monasteries  founded  by  Wilfred  were  summoned  to 
attend  ;  they  spent  the  preceding  night  in  watching  and 
prayer,  on  the  following  morning  a  solemn  Mass  was  })er- 
formcd,  and  then  the  tenth  part  of  the  cattle  belonging 
to  the  monastery  was  distributed  among  the  neighbor- 
ing poor. 

In  like  manner  we  find  the  caldorman  Osulf,  "for  the 
redemption  and  health  of  his  own  soul,  and  of  his  wile, 
Beornthrythe,"  giving  certain  lands  to  the  Church  of 
Liming,  in  Kent,  under  the  express  condition  that  "  every 
twelve  months  afterwards,  the  day  of  their  departure  out 
of  this  life  should  be  kept  with  fasting  and  prayer  to 
God,  in  psalmody  and  the  celebration  of  Masses." 

It  would  appear  that  some  doubt  existed  with  respect 
to  the  exact  meaning  of  this  condition ;  and  a  few  years 
later  the  archbishop,  to  set  the  question  at  rest,  pro- 
nounced the  following  decree :  "  Wherefore  I  order  that 
the  godly  deeds  following  be  performed  for  their  souls 
at  the  tide  of  their  anniversary ;  that  every  Mass  priest 
celebrate  two  Masses  for  the  soul  of  Osulf,  and  two  for 
Beornthrythe's  soul ;  that  every  deacon  read  two  pas- 
sions (the  narratives  of  our  Lord's  sufferings  in  the  gos- 
pels) for  his  soul,  and  two  for  hers  ;  and  each  of  God's 

0    '  On  the  (ioatli  of  St.  Guthladc,  his  sister  Pega  recommended  his  soul  to 
God,  and  sang  psalms  for  that  purpose  during  three  days. 


1' 


i 


I*  A 


\ 

: 


240 


PURGATORY. 


servants  (the  inferior  members  of  the  brotherhood)  two 
fifties  "  (hfty  psalms)  "  for  his  soul,  two  for  hers  ;  that  as 
you  in  the  world  are  blessed  with  worldly  goods  through 
them,  so  they  may  be  blessed  with  godly  goods  through 
you." 

It  should,  however,  be  observed,  that  such  devotions 
were  not  confined  to  the  anniversaries  of  the  dead.  In 
many,  perhaps  in  all,  of  these  religious  establishments, 
the  whole  community  on  certain  da3's  walked,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  matin  service,  in  procession  to  the  ceme- 
tery, and  there  chanted  the  dirge  over  the  graves  of  their 
deceased  brethren  and  benefactors. 

Respecting  these  practices  some  most  extraordinary 
opinions  have  occasionally  been  hazarded.  We  have 
been  told  that  the  custom  of  praying  for  the  dead  was  no 
part  of  the  religious  system  originally  taught  to  the 
Anglo-Saxons,  that  it  was  not  generally  received  for  two 
centuries  after  their  conversion,  and  that  it  probably  took 
its  rise  "  from  a  mistaken  charity,  continuing  to  do  for  the 
departed  what  it  was  only  lawful  to  do  for  the  living." 
To  this  supposition  it  may  be  sufficient  to  reply,  that  it 
is  supported  by  no  reference  to  ancient  authority,  but 
contradicted  in  every  page  of  Anglo-Saxon  history. 
Others  have  admitted  the  universal  prevalence  of  the 
practice,  but  have  discovered  that  it  originated  in  the  in- 
terested views  of  the  clergy,  who  employed  it  as  a  con- 
stant source  of  emolument,  and  laughed  among  them- 
selves at  the  easy  faith  of  their  disciples.  But  this 
opinion  is  subject  to  equal  difficulties  with  the  former. 
It  rests  on  no  ancient  testimony :  it  is  refuted  by  the 
conduct  of  the  ancient  clergy.  No  instance  is  to  be 
found  of  any  one  of  these  conspirators  as  they  are  repre- 
sented, who  in  an  unguarded  moment,  or  of  any  fulse 
lirothcr  who,  in  the  peevishness  of  discontent,  revealed 
the  secret  to  the  ears  of  their  dupes.  On  the  contrary, 
wc  see  them  in  their  private  correspondence  holding  to 
each  other  the  same  language  which  they  held  to  their 
disciples;    requesting    from    each   other  those    prayers 


HISTORICAL. 


241 


which  we  are  told  that  they  mutually  despised,  and 
making  pecuniary  sacrifices  during  life  to  purchase  what, 
if  their  accusers  be  correct,  they  deemed  an  illusory  as- 
sistence  after  death. 


A   SINGULAR  FRENCH  CUSTOM. 

Vernon  is  perhaps  the  only  town  in  France  wherein 
the  ancient  custom  of  which  we  are  about  to  speak  still 
exists.  When  a  death  occurs,  an  individual,  robed  in  a 
mortuary  tunic,  adorned  with  cross-bones  and  tear-drops, 
goes  through  the  streets  with  a  small  bell  in  either  hand, 
the  sound  of  which  is  sharp  and  penetrating ;  at  every 
place  where  the  streets  cross  each  other,  he  rings  his  bells 
three  times,  crying  out  in  a  doleful  voice :  "  Such-a-one, 
belonging  to  the  Confraternity  of  St.  Roch,  or  the  Con- 
fraternity of  St.  Sebastian,  ^c,  &c.,  is  recommended  to 
your  prayers.  He  is  dead.  The  funeral  will  take  place 
at  such-an-hour."  Then  he  rings  again  three  times.  The 
first  Sunday  of  each  month  arrives.  Then,  at  the  dawn 
of  day  the  same  individual  goes  again  through  the  town, 
ringing  continuously,  knocking  thrice  at  the  door  of  each 
member  of  the  confraternity,  and  stopping  at  the  corners 
of  the  streets,  he  sings :  "  Good  people,"  or  "  good  souls, 
who  sleep,  awake!  awake!  pray  for  the  dead!  &c." — 
Voix  de  la  Vcritc^  July  22,  1846. 


u 


5-; 


i^ 


! 


, 


iiMMiitiiiiiiiHBati 


242 


rURGATORY. 


DEVOTION  TO   THE  HOLY  SOULS  AMONGST  THE  EARLY 

ENGLISH. 

ANNA   T.    SADLIER. 

An  English  writer,  the  gifted  author  of  the  Knights  of 
St.  John,  makes  the  following  assertion  as  regards  the 
people  of  her  own  nationality  :  "  Our  Catholic  ancestors," 
she  says,  "  are  said  to  have  been  distinguished  above  all 
other  nations  for  their  devotion  towards  the  dead  ;  and 
it  harmonizes  with  one  feature  in  our  national  character, 
namely,  that  gravity  and  attraction  to  things  of  solemn 
and  pathetic  interest  which,  uncontrolled  by  the  inlluence 
of  faith,  degenerates  even  into  melancholy."  In  view  of 
this  assertion,  it  will  be  interesting  to  spend  a  few  mo- 
ments in  gathering  up  the  links  of  this  most  ancient  and 
most  touching  devotion,  amongst  a  people  who  have  col- 
lectively, as  it  were,  fallen  away  fn^m  grace.  It  is  there- 
fore our  purpose  to  lo(jk  backwards  into  that  solemn  and 
beautiful  past  of  which  heretical  England  can  boast,  and 
behold  her,  as  Carlyle  beheld  her  in  his  "  Past  and  Pres- 
ent," offering  to  the  world  the  sublime  spectacle  of  a 
})eople  devout  and  faithful,  undisturbed  by  doubt,  tran- 
quilizcd  by  the  harmonious  influence  of  religion,  and  un- 
harasscd  by  the  spirit  of  so  called  philosophic  inquiry, 
which,  misdirected,  is  the  true  bane  of  English  society  at 
the  present  day. 

This  retrospection,  as  we  shall  have  occasion  later  on 
to  recur  to  the  subject  of  devotion  to  the  dead  in  Eng- 
land, must  neccssaril}'^  be  both  brief  and  cursory.  But 
even  the  merest  outlines  are  of  interest,  for  they  prove 
that  prayer  f(jr  the  departed  was  no  less  the  favorite  de- 
votion of  the  learned  than  of  the  simple,  and  that  it  had 
its  home  in  those  ancient  seats  of  learning,  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  and  their  dcj^endcncies,  from  the  very  hour 
of  their  foundation.     Of  the  Founder  of  Oxford,  it  is  said, 


H. 


t 


\ 


HISTORICAL. 


243 


E  EARLY 


nights  of 
ards  the 
iccstors," 
above  all 
ead  ;  and 
:haracter, 
)t  solemn 
influence 
n  view  of 
L  few  mo- 
Luent  and 
have  col- 
t  is  there- 
Icmn  and 
>oast,  and 
md  Pres- 
aclc  of  a 
ibt,  tran- 
,  and  un- 
:  inquiry, 
;ociety  at 

later  on 
1  in  Eng- 
ry.  But 
ey  prove 
orite  de- 
it  it  had 
ford  and 
ery  hour 
it  is  said, 


( 


that  prayer  for  the  dead  was  one  of  his  devotions  of  pre- 
dilection. It  is  not  necessary  here  for  us  to  follow  him, 
the  great  and  good  William  of  Wykeham,  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, and  subsequently  Lord  Chancellor  of  England, 
in  the  gradual  unfoldings  of  that  project  of  founding  a 
University,  so  dear  to  him  from  almost  the  moment  of  his 
elevation  to  the  episcopate.  Suffice  that  in  the  March  of 
1379,  he  laid  the  corner-stone  of  "  St.  Marie's  College  of 
Winchester,  Oxenford."  It  is  with  his  great  charity  to- 
wards the  Holy  Souls  that  we  are  at  present  concerned, 
and  of  this  wc  have  ample  proof  in  the  testimonies  of  his 
biographers.  Here  is  one  of  them,  in  the  paragraph 
which  follows  : 

"  There  was  another  devotion  which  was  most  dearly 
cherished  by  Wykeham,  and  which  is  an  equal  indication 
of  the  singular  spirituality  of  his  mind, — wc  mean,  that 
for  the  sutL-ring  souls  in  Purgatory.     It  may  be   safely 
affirmed,  that  this  devotion,  so  unselfish  and  unearthly  in 
its  tendencies,  carrying  us  beyond  the  grave,  and  making 
us  familiar  with  the  secrets  of  the  unseen  world,  could 
never  find  a  place  in  the  heart  of  one  who  was  engrossed 
by  secular  cares,  or  the  love  of  money.     Its  existence  in 
any  marked  and  special  degree  argues  in  the  soul  of  its 
possessor  a  profound  sense  of  sin,  a  deep  compassion  for 
the  sufferings  of  others,  and  a  habit  of  dwelling  on  the 
thoughts  of  death,  judgment,  and  eternity.     Moreover,  it 
is  utterly  opposed  to  anything  of  that  mercenary  or  com- 
mercial spirit  which  exists  among  men  of  the  world,  who 
like  to  see  some  large  practical  result  even  in  matters  of 
devotion.     We  pray,  and  are  sensible  of  no  return  ;  we 
spend  our  money  in  a  Requiem  Mass,  and  there  is  nothing 
but  trust  in  God's  word,  and  God's  fidelity,  to  assure  us 
that  the  money  is  not  thrown  away.     Every  Dc  Profundis 
that  we  say  is  as  much  an  act  of  faith  as  it  is  an  act  of 
charity  ;  and  it  has  its  reward.     We  do  not  speak  merely 
of  the  benefit  reaped  by  the  souls  of  the  faithful  departed  ; 
but  who  can  measure  the  effect  of  this  devotion   on  a 
man's  own  soul,  bringing  him  (as  it  docs)  into  communion 


244 


PURGATORY. 


i    1 


with  the  world  of  spirits,  and  realizing  to  him  the  worth 
of  Christian  suffering,  and  the  awful  purity  of  God  ?  "  .  .  . 

Wykeham's  heart  was  full  of  compassion  for  suffering-, 
and  thn  dead  shared  his  charity  with  the  living.  Never 
did  he  offer  the  Holy  Sacrifice  for  the  departed  without 
abundant  tears.  His  reverence  for  the  Holy  Mysteries, 
and  the  singular  devotion  with  which  he  celebrated,  are 
often  referred  to  by  those  who  have  written  his  life ;  one 
of  whom,  after  speaking  of  his  various  charities,  thus  con- 
tinues :  *'  Not  only  did  he,  as  we  have  said,  offer  his 
goods,  but  also  his  very  self,  as  a  lively  sacrifice  to  God, 
and  hence,  in  the  solemn  celebration  of  Mass,  and  chiefly 
at  that  part  where  there  is  made  a  special  memorial  of  the 
living  and  the  dead,  he  was  wont  to  shed  many  tears  out 
of  the  humility  of  his  heart,  reputing  himself  unworthy,  as 
he  was  wont  to  express  it  in  speaking  to  his  secretary,  to 
perform  such  an  office,  or  to  handle  the  most  sublime 
mysteries  of  the  Church." 

From  the  same  biographer  we  add  to  the  foregoing  a 
further  testimony  as  to  what  a  hold  this  devotion  of  pre- 
dilection had  taken  upon  the  soul  of  the  Founder  of  Ox- 
ford : 

"  Among  his  charities  we  accordingly  find  a  great  many 
which  were  solely  directed  to  the  relief  of  the  suffering 
souls.  Wykeham's  benevolence  had  in  it  one  admirable 
feature :  it  was  not  left  to  be  carried  out  after  his  death 
by  his  executors,  but  all  his  great  acts  of  munificence  were 
performed  in  his  own  lifetime.  One  of  his  first  cares,  after 
his  accession  to  the  See  of  Winchester,  was  to  found  a 
chantr}'-  in  the  Priory  of  South wykc,  near  Wykeham,  for 
the  repose  of  the  souls  of  his  father  and  mother  and  sister, 
who  were  buried  within  the  priory  church ;  and  in  all  his 
after  foundations  provisions  were  made  for  the  continual 
remembrance  of  the  dead ;  and  (ever  grateful  to  his  early 
friends)  King  Edward  HI.,  the  Black  Prince,  and  King 
Richard  H.  were  all  commended  to  the  charity  of  those 
who,  as  they  prayed  for  Wykeham,  were  charged  at  the 
same  time  to  pray  for  the  souls  of  his  benefactors." 


the  worth 
od?"  .  .  . 
suffering, 
^.     Never 
d  without 
Mysteries, 
rated,  are 
s  life ;  one 
thus  con- 
offer   his 
;e  to  God, 
nd  chiefly 
rial  of  the 
tears  out 
kvorthy,  as 
retary,  to 
t  sublime 


regomg  a 
on  of  pre- 
ier  of  Ox- 


reat  many 
;  suffering 
admirable 

his  death 
lence  were 
;ares,  after 
to  found  a 
ceham,  for 
ind  sister, 
1  in  all  his 

continual 
)  his  early 
and  King 
y  of  those 
;ed  at  the 
rs. 


HISTORICAL. 


245 


In  Winchester  we  read,  also,  of  the  College  of  the  Holy 
Trinity,  endowed  as  a  **  carnarie,"  or  charnel-house,  of 
the  city.  The  chief  duties  of  the  priests  belonging  to  the 
chantry  attached  thereto  were  to  bury  the  dead,  and  keep 
up  perpetual  Masses  for  the  souls  of  the  departed. 

Those  Colleges  of  Winchester,  with  their  simple  beauty 
and  grandeur  of  design,  with  their  convx^ntional  rule  of 
life,  the  singing  of  Matins,  and  the  daily  chanting  of  the 
divine  office  by  chaplains  and  fellows,  offer  to  us  a  very 
fair  picture,  indeed.  But  we  observe  that  in  the  Masses 
sung  with  "  note  and  chant,"  there  is  one  specially  men- 
tioned for  the  souls  of  the  founder's  parents,  and  of  all  the 
faithful  departed  ;  a  second  for  the  souls  of  King  Edward 
III.,  Queen  Philippa,  the  Black  Prince,  Richard  II.,  Queen 
Anne,  and  certain  benefactors. 

On  the  24th  of  July,  1403,  the  saintly  Wykeham  made 
his  will.  He  directed  that  his  body  should  be  laid  in  a 
chantry  which  he  had  himself  founded,  and  at  the  altar  of 
which  he  was  wont  to  offer  up  the  Holy  Sacrifice.  He 
desired  that  on  the  day  of  his  burial,  "  to  every  poor  per- 
son coming  to  Winchester,  and  asking  alms,  for  the  love 
of  God,  and  for  the  health  of  his  soul,  there  should  be 
given  fourpence."  Alms  were  likewise  to  be  distributed 
in  every  place  through  which  his  body  was  to  pass,  and 
large  provision  was  made  for  Masses  and  prayers  for  the 
repose  of  his  soul.  He  had,  besides,  made  an  agreement 
with  the  monks  of  St.  Sudthin's,  by  which  they  were  to 
offer  three  Masses  daily  for  his  parents  and  benefactors 
in  the  chantry  chapel ;  the  first  of  these  was  a  Mass  of 
Our  Lady,  to  be  said  very  early.  The  boys  attached  to 
the  College  were,  moreover,  to  sing  every  night  in  perpe- 
tuity, either  the  Salve  Rcgiiia  or  Ave  Rcgina,  with  a  De 
Profundis  for  his  soul's  repose.  So,  as  the  hour  of  his 
death  drew  near,  he  who  had  concerned  himself  through 
life  with  the  souls  of  the  departed,  essayed  to  make  pro- 
vision for  his  own.  Since  that  hour  when  he  proceeded 
to  the  high  altar  of  Winchester  Cathedral,  escorted  by 
the  Lord  Prior  of  Winchester  and  the  Abbot  Hyde,  to 


1 


!'.  ; 


1 1 


i 


•j!      I    V 


111 


I 


246 


PURGATORY. 


celebrate  his  first  Pontifieal  Mass,  the  same  constant 
memory  of  the  dead  had  been  with  him,  as  when  kneel- 
ing he  prayed  aloud  for  the  soul  of  his  predecessor,  Wil- 
liam de  Edyndon,  and  bade  the  choir  chant  the  De  Pro- 
fundis,  while  he  himself  recited  the  Fidcliuni  omnium  con- 
ditor. 

But  leaving  Oxford  and  its  pious  founder,  we  turn  our 
gaze  upon  that  ancient  foundation  of  Eton,  which  was  to 
serve  as  a  preparatory  school  for  the  new  establishment 
of  King's  College  of  Cambridge,  which  Henry  had  in 
contemplation.  Henry,  in  his  famous  Eton  charter, 
makes  mention  of  his  desire  that  this  college  shall  be,  as 
it  were,  a  memorial  of  him,  and  be  composed  of  clerks, 
"■  who,"  h{>  says,  "  shall  pray  for  our  welfare  whilst  we 
live,  and  for  our  soul  when  we  shall  have  departed  this 
life."  The  Pope,  Eugenius  IV.,  afterwards  granted  a 
plenary  indulgence  to  all  who  should  visit  the  College 
Chapel  of  Our  Lady  of  Eton,  after  Confession  and  Com- 
munion. 

Henry  having  visited  the  Colleges  of  Winchester,  first 
met  there  with  William  Wayneflete,  with  whom  he  was  to 
be  united  in  so  warm  and  beautiful  a  friendship.  The 
"  Master  of  Winton,"  as  Wayneflete  then  was,  is  described 
as  "  simple,  devout,  and  full  of  learning."  But  a  short 
time  after  he  was  removed  to  Eton,  and  presently  raised  to 
the  Provostship.  Among  many  beautiful  and  pious  cus- 
toms, the  memory  of  the  dead  was  carefully  preserved 
among  the  Eton  scholars,  and  their  verses  on  All  Souls' 
Day  were  on  the  blessedness  of  those  who  die  in  the  Lord. 
But  Wayneflete  is,  of  course,  chiefly  identified  with  Mag- 
dalen College,  Oxford,  said  to  be  "  the  finest  collegiate 
building  in  England,"  and  of  which  he  was  the  founder. 
It  was,  in  truth,  his  dream,  and  one  which  he  was  des- 
tined to  see  realized.  Here  is  neither  the  place  nor  time 
to  dwell  upon  its  beauties.  The  first  stone  was  laid  by 
the  venerable  Tybarte,  its  first  president.  He  was  buried 
in  the  middle  of  the  inner  chapel,  and  upon  a  cope,  pre- 
served among  the  ancient  church  vestments,  is  one  upon 


^ 


HISTORICAL. 


247 


constant 
len  knccl- 
5sor,  Wil- 
le  De  Pro- 
iniiDu  con- 
turn  our 
h  was  to 
)lishment 
y  had  in 
charter, 
lall  be,  as 
Df  clerks, 
vhilst  we 
irted  this 
ranted  a 
Colleg-e 
nd  Com- 

ster,  first 
le  was  to 
ip.     The 
lescribed 
a  short 
raised  to 
ious  cus- 
reserved 
M  Souls' 
he  Lord, 
th  Mag- 
:)llcgiate 
founder, 
vas  des- 
lor  time 
laid   by 
5  buried 
pe,  pre- 
tie  upon 


which  is  worked  the  inscription,  "  Orate  pro  anima  Magis- 
iri  Tybartcy  ^ 

Among  the  rules  and  regulations  of  this  new  foundation 
was  one  which  obliged  the  president,  fellows,  and  scholars 
to  recite,  while  dressing,  certain  prayers  in  honor  of  the 
Blessed  Trinity,  and  a  suffrage  for  the  founder.  Daily 
prayers  were  offered  up  for  the  repose  of  the  souls  of  the 
founder's  father  and  mother,  "thi^sc  of  benefactors  of  the 
college,  and  for  all  the  souls  of  the  faitiiful  departed." 
These  suifrages  were  to  be  made  by  every  one,  at  what- 
ever hour  (^f  the  day  was  most  convenient. 

There  acre  many  foundations  of  Masses  attached  to 
this  College  of  Magdalen.  Of  these  daily  Masses,  offered 
at  the  six  altars  of  the  chapel,  the  early  "  Morrow  Mass  " 
was  always  said  in  the  Arundel  Chapel,  for  tlic  soul  of 
Lord  Arundel,  the  chief  benefactor  of  the  institute.  •  An- 
other Mass  was  to  be  said  every  day  for  "  souls  of  good 
memory,"  including,  besides  the  two  kings,  Henry  111. 
and  Edward  IIL,  his  dear  and  never  forgotten  friends, 
Henry  VI.,  Lord  Cromwell,  and  Sir  John  Fastolfe,  as 
well  as  King  Edward  IV.  Other  Masses  and  prayers 
were  said  for  other  intentions.  The  founder  was  to  be 
specially  remembered  every,  quarter.  Every  day,  after 
High  Mass,  one  of  the  demys  was  to  say  aloud  in  the 
chapel,  '■'■  Aiiima  fundatoris  nostri  Willicluii,  ct  animce  oin- 
niujiL  fidcliiim  dcfnnctorum,  per  miserieordiam  Dei  in  paec 
requiescaty  -  The  same  prayer  was  to  be  repeated  in 
the  hall  after  dinner  and  supper. 

But  the  life  of  the  Founder  of  Magdalen,  the  great 
Bishop,  was  drawing  to  a  close.  We  shall  see  by  his 
will  how  firm  his  faith  in  that  most  Catholic  of  all  doc- 
trines— Purgatory.  After  various  bequests,  he  left  a  cer- 
tain portion  of  his  property  for  Masses  and  alms-deeds 
for  his  own  soul  and  the  souls  of  his  parents  and  friends. 
On  the  day  of  his  burial,  and  on  the  thirtieth  day  from 

'  Pni)'  for  the  soul  of  Master  Tybarte. 

^  "  May  the  soul  of  our  founder,  William,  and  the  souls  of  all  the  faithful 
departed,  through  the  mercy  of  God,  rest  in  peace." 


if  t 


1  I  i 


h  1) 


i      ,   ■/■' 

■     Si 


I 


'I 


M 
II 


;{| 


248 


PURGATORY. 


the  time  of  his  decease,  and  on  other  appointed  days,  his 
executors  are  charged  to  have  5,000  Masses  said  in  honor 
of  the  Five  Wounds  of  Christ,  and  the  Five  Joys  of  Mary 
— his  favorite  devotions — for  the  same  intention.  His  re- 
mains were  buried  at  Winchester,  in  a  tomb  which  he 
had  prepared  as  a  place  of  burial  durini^  his  lifetime.  His 
was,  indeed,  the  third  chantry  chapel  in  Winchester,  the 
others  being  those  of  his  predecessor.  This  custom  was 
common  to  all  the  great  prelates  of  the  time.  They  pre- 
pared a  place  of  sepulture  during  their  life,  and  there 
where  they  officiated  at  all  solemn  offices,  and  so  fre- 
quently celebrated  requiems  for  the  departed,  they  knew 
that  their  remains  were  one  day  to  be  laid,  and  prayers 
and  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  to  be  offered  for  them- 
selves.    It  was  thus  a  constant  reminder  of  death. 

A  ceremony  connected  with  Magdalen  Tower  seems 
likewise  to  have  had  its  origin  in  this  pious  custom  of 
remembrance  of  the  dead.  '*  On  the  ist  of  May,"  says 
Anthony  Wood,  "  the  choral  ministers  of  this  house  do, 
according  to  ancient  custom,  salute  Flora  from  the  top 
of  the  tower,  at  four  in  the  morning,  with  vocal  music  of 
several  parts."  Of  course,  as  a  chronicler  remarks,  it 
was  not  to  salute  Flora  that  any  Catholic  choristers  thus 
made  vocal  the  sweet  air  of  May.  "  The  sweet  music  of 
Magdalen  Tower,"  remarks  the  author  of  the  Knights 
of  St.  John,  ''had  a  directly  religious  origin.  On  the  ist 
of  May  the  society  was  wont  annually  to  celebrate  the 
obit  or  Requiem  Mass  of  King  Henry  VH.,  who  proved  a 
generous  benefactor  to  the  College,  and  who  is  still  com- 
memorated as  such  upon  that  day.  The  requiem  was 
not,  indeed,  celebrated  on  tJic  top  of  the  toivcr,  as  Mr. 
Chalmers,  in  his  history  of  the  university,  affirms,  in 
total  ignorance  that  a  requiem  is  a  Mass,  and  that  a  Mass 
must  be  said  upon  an  altar;  but  it  is  probable  that  the 
choral  service  chanted  on  the  ist  of  May  consisted  origi- 
nally of  the  De  Profundis,  or  some  other  psal:-.!,  for  the 
repose  of  Henry's  soul,  and  as  a  special  mark  of  grati- 
tude."    Some  semblance  of  the  old  custom  is  still  kept 


<■■ 


days,  his 

in  honor 
5  of  Mary 
His  rc- 
vhich   he 

ime.  His 
ester,  the 
itom  was 

hey  pre- 
nd  there 
1  so  fre- 
ley  knew 

prayers 
br  them- 
1. 

3r  seems 
Listom  of 
ly,"  says 
lOuse  do, 

the  top 
music  of 
narks,  it 
ters  thus 
music  of 
Knights 
1  the  1st 
rate  the 
Droved  a 
till  com- 
iem  was 

as  Mr. 
irms,  in 

a  Mass 
hat  the 
d  origi- 

for  the 
f  grati- 
ill  kept 


HISTORICAL. 


249 


up,  as  ten  pounds  is  still  annually  paid  by  the  rectory  of 
Slimbridge,  in  Gloucestershire,  for  the  i)urpose  of  keep- 
ing up  this  ceremony." 

Such  are  a  few  brief  glimpses  of  this  belief  in  Purga- 
tory, which  was  so  dear  to  the  hearts  of  Englishmen,  in 
those  centuries  before  the  blight  of  heresy  had  fallen 
upon  the  Island  of  the  Saints.  These  hints  upon  the  sub- 
ject are  given  very  much  at  random,  and  will  simply 
serve  to  show  how  prayer  for  the  dead  was  a  part  of  all 
Christian  lives  in  those  ages  of  faith.  It  was  incorporated 
in  the  rules  of  every  collegiate  institute,  and  more  espe- 
cially those  two  most  notable  ones  of  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge. It  entered  into  every  man's  calculations,  and 
was  provided  for  in  every  Will  and  Testament.  Had  it 
been  in  our  power  to  go  backwards,  into  a  still  more  re- 
mote antiquity,  it  would  have  been  our  pleasant  task  to 
find  this  belief  in  suffrage  for  the  dead  taking  so  vigorous 
root  in  every  heart.  Do  we  not  find  the  Venerable  Bede, 
"the  Father  of  English  Learning,"  Vs  ho  was  born  in  673 
and  died  in  734,  asking  that  his  name  may  be  enrolled 
amongst  the  monks  of  the  monastery  founded  by  St. 
Aidan,  in  order  that  his  soul  after  death  might  have  a  share 
in  the  Masses  and  prayers  of  that  numerous  community, 
as  he  tells  us  himself  in  his  Preface  to  the  Life  of  St. 
Cuthbert.  "  This  pious  anxiety,"  says  Montalembert, 
"  to  assure  himself  of  the  help  of  prayer  for  his  soul  after 
death  is  apparent  at  every  step  in  his  letters.  It  imprints 
the  last  seal  of  humble  and  true  Christianity  on  the  char- 
acter of  the  great  philosopher,  whose  life  was  so  full  of 
interest,  and  whose  last  days  have  been  revealed  to  us  in 
minute  detail  by  an  eye-witness."  ^ 

The  passionate  entreaties  of  Anselm,  another  of  the 
shining  lights  of  early  Anglo-Saxon  days,  that  the  soul  of 
his  young  disciple  Osbern  be  remembered  in  prayers  and 
Masses,  proves  what  value  he  attached  to  suffrages  for 
the  departed : 

"  I  beg  of  you,"  he  writes  to  his  friend  Gondulph,  *'  of 

'  "  Monks  of  the  West,"  Vol.  v.,  p.  Sq. 


I   I 


I 


III 

If 
I 

i , 


'f 


250 


rURGATOUY. 


you  and  of  all  my  friends,  to  pray  for  Osbcrn.  His  soul 
is  my  soul.  All  that  you  do  for  him  durin<^  my  life,  I 
sliall  accept  as  if  you  had  done  it  for  me  after  my  death. 
.  .  .  1  conjure  you  ior  the  tliird  time,  remember  me, 
and  forget  not  tlie  soul  of  my  well-l)eloved  Osbern.  And 
if  I  ask  too  much  of  you,  then  forget  me  and  remember 
him.  .  .  .  The  soul  of  my  Osbern,  ah !  I  beseech 
thee,  give  it  no  other  place  than  in  my  bosom." 

And  do  we  not  read  of  those  "  prayers  for  souls,"  in- 
cessant and  obligatory,  wliich  were  identified  with  all  the 
monastic  habits — thanks  to  that  devotion  for  the  dead 
which  received  in  a  monastery  its  final  and  perpetual 
sanction.  "  They  were  not  content,"  says  Montalembert, 
"  even  with  common  and  permanent  prayer  for  the  dead  of 
each  isolated  monastery.  By  degrees,  vast  spiritual  asso- 
ciations were  formed  among"  communities  of  the  same 
order  and  the  same  country,  with  the  aim  of  relieving  by 
their  reciprocal  prayers  the  defunct  members  of  each 
house.  Rolls  of  parchment,  transmitted  by  special  mes- 
sengers from  cloister  to  cloister,  received  the  names  of 
those  who  had  '  emigrated,'  according  to  the  consecrated 
expression,  *  from  this  terrestrial  light  to  Christ,'  and 
served  the  purpose  of  a  check  and  register  to  prevent 
defalcation  in  that  voluntary  impost  of  prayer  which  our 
fervent  cenobitcs  solicited  in  advance  for  themselves  or 
for  their  friends."  And,  of  course,  this  was  many  years, 
even  centuries,  before  the  Feast  of  All  Souls  was  insti- 
tuted by  the  Abbot  Odilo  and  the  monks  of  Cluny  in  998. 
English  history,  like  every  other  history,  furnishes  us, 
mdeed,  with  innumerable  traits  of  this  pious  devotion  to 
the  Holy  Souls.  Obviously,  our  space  must  prevent  us 
from  entering  more  deeply  into  the  subject.  May  the 
few  scattered  hints  we  have  been  enabled  to  throw  out 
be  of  interest  and  profit  to  our  readers ! 


Oalrt  V 


v-/^ 


HISTORICAL. 


251 


[lis  soul 
y  life,  I 
y  death, 
ber  mc, 
1.  And 
member 
beseech 

uls,"  in- 

1  all  the 

ic  dead 

^rpetual 

embert, 

dead  of 

lal  asso- 

e  same 

ving  by 

jf  each 

al  mes- 

imcs  of 

ecrated 

;t,'   and 

prevent 

ch  our 

ves  or 

years, 

insti- 

in  998. 

ics  us, 

ion  to 

cut  us 

ay  the 

)W  out 


m 


DOCTRINE   OF   PURGATORY  IN   THE   EARLY   IRISH 

CHURCH. 

WAI.SII.' 

Coerced  by  the  unvarying;  as  well  as  unequivocal  tes- 
timony of  our  writers,  our  liturj^ies,  our  canons,  I'sher 
was  obliged  to  admit  tiiat  tlie  ancient  Irish  had  been  in 
the  constant  practice  of  offering  up  the  eucharistic  sacri- 
fice, and  that  Masses,  termed  Rcquicui  Masses,  used  to  bo 
celebrated  daily.  So  iwtcrwoven  is  the  doctrine  of  the 
eucharistic  sacrifice  with  the  records  of  the  nation,  that 
the  antiquarian  himself  sh(juld  reject  tlic  antiquities  of 
Ireland  if  he  had  ventured  on  the  denial  of  this  practice. 
.  .  .  .  Admitting  the  practice  of  the  ancient  Irisli 
Church,  Usher  strives  to  escape  from  the  difficulty,  as 
well  as  attempts  to  deceive  his  readers,  by  pretending 
that  it  had  been  only  a  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving,  offered 
as  such  for  those  souls  who  were  in  possession  of  eternal 
happiness,  and  that  it  had  not  been  believed  or  practiced 
in  the  ancient  Irish  Church  as  a  propitiatory  sacrifice. 
.  .  .  .  The  ancient  canons  of  the  Irish  Church  as 
clearly  point  out  as  the  firmament  demonstrates  the  glory 
of  God,  the  doctrine  of  our  Church  regarding  the  eucha- 
ristic sacrifice,  as  one  of  thanksgiving,  and  also  one  of  pro- 
pitiation. In  an  ancient  canon  contained  in  D'Achery's 
collection  (lib.  2,  cap.  20),  the  synod  says :  "  The  Church 
offers  for  the  souls  of  the  deceased  in  four  ways  — for  the 
very  good,  the  oblations  are  simply  thanksgiving ;  for 
the  very  bad,  they  become  consolations  to  the  living ;  for 
such  as  were  not  very  good,  the  oblations  are  made  in 
order  to  obtain  full  remission ;  and  for  those  who  were 
not  very  bad,  that  their  punishment  may  be  rendered 
more  tolerable."  Here,  then,  is  enunciated  in  plain  terms, 
the  doctrine  of  the  eucharistic  oblation  being  a  propitia- 
tory sacrifice.  When  offered  for  the  first  class  of  happy 
souls,  it  is  an  offering  of  thanksgiving.    When  offered  for 

'  "  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Ireland."     Rev.  J.  Walsh. 


i    I 


1^1 


'W 


252 


PURGATORY. 


tliosc  whose  lives  were  bad  in  tlic  sight  of  Heaven,  its 
obhition  is  a  comfort  to  the  faitiiful.  Wiien  offered  for 
tliose  who  were  iKJt  very  j^ood  or  very  bad,  the  object  of 
its  oblation  was  to  render  tlieir  state  more  tolerable,  and 
that  full  ])ard()n  would  be  at  length  accorded.  The 
framers  of  tliis  canon  give  us  also  the  doctrine  of  a  mid- 
dle state,  as  a  tenet  also  believed  by  the  Church  of  Ire- 
land. 

Another  canon,  still  more  ancient,  and  which  is  reck- 
oned among  those  of  St.  Patrick,  is  entitled  '*  Of  the  Ob- 
lation for  the  Dead."  This  canon  is  couched  in  the  fol- 
lowing words :  "  There  is  a  sin  unto  death,  I  do  not  say 
that  for  it  any  do  pray."     This  sin  is  final  impenitence. 

The  ancient  Irish  Missal,  "the  Cursus  Scotorum,'"  con- 
tains an  oration  for  the  dead :  "  Grant,  O  Lord,  to  him, 
Thy  servant,  deceased,  the  pardon  of  all  his  sins,  in  that 
secret  abode  where  there  is  no  longer  room  for  penance. 
Do  Thou,  O  Christ,  receive  the  soul  of  Thy  servant,  which 
Thou  hast  given,  and  forgive  him  his  trespasses  more 
abundantly  than  he  has  forgiven  those  who  have  tres- 
passed against  him."  An  oration  is  also  given  for  the 
living  and  the  dead :  "  Propitiously  grant  that  this  sacred 
oblation  may  be  profitable  to  the  dead  in  obtaining  par- 
don, and  to  the  living,  in  obtaining  salvation ;  grant  to 
them  (living  and  dead)  the  full  remission  of  all  their  sins, 
and  that  indulgence  they  have  always  deserved." 

The  liturgy  usually  called  "  Cursus  Scotoruin  "  Avas  that 
which  had  been  first  brought  to  Ireland  by  St.  Patrick, 
and  was  the  only  one  that  had  been  used,  until  about  the 
close  of  the  sixth  century.  About  this  period  the  Galil- 
ean liturgy,  "  Cursus  Galloruni^'  was,  it  is  probable,  intro- 
duced into  Ireland.  The  "  Cursus  Scotorum  "  is  supposed 
to  have  been  the  liturgy  originally  drawn  up  and  used  by 
St.  Mark  the  evangelist ;  it  was  afterwards  followed  by 
St.  Gregory  Nazianzen,  St.  Basil,  and  other  Greek 
Fathers;  then  by  Cassian,  Honoratus,  St.  Cossarius  of 
Aries,  St.  Lupus  of  Troyes,  and  St.  Germaine  of  Auxerre, 
from  whom  St.  Patrick  received  it,  when  setting  out  on 


Hi 


Lvcn,  its 
;rc(l  lor 
bjcct  of 
blc,  and 
I.      The 

a  mid- 
i  of  Ire- 
is  reck- 
tiie  Ob- 
the  fol- 
not  say 
cnce. 
7,"  con- 
to  him, 
in  that 
cnance. 
-,  which 
IS  more 
'e  tres- 
for  the 

sacred 
ig  par- 
rant  to 
;ir  sins, 

as  that 
'atrick, 
)ut  the 
;  Galli- 
,  intro- 
)posed 
scd  by 
ed  by 
Greek 
ius  of 
ixerre, 
3ut  on 


HISTORICAL. 


I 


253 


his  mission  to  Ireland.  A  copy  of  the  "  Ciirsiis  Scoto- 
rnm "  was  found  by  Mabillon,  in  the  ancient  monas- 
tery of  Bobbio,  of  wiiicli  St.  Columbanus  was  loundcr, 
and  which  missal  that  learned  writer  believes  to  have 
been  written  at  least  one  thousand  years  before  his  time. 
.  .  .  .  It  contains  two  Masses  for  the  dead ;  one  a 
ji^eneral  Mass,  and  the  other  '' Missn  Saccrdotis  defunct i''* 
(Mass  for  a  deceased  priest). 


PEiNCE    NAPOT.\iO?i'3    PRAYER. 

This  prayer,  in  tUc  handwr'img  of  the  Prince  Imperial, 
was  found  amonj^  the  pa;)crs  in  hi;-:  desk  at  Camden 
Palace.  In  publishing-  it  the  Mornini^^  Post  adds  :  "  The 
elucidation  of  his  chauactcr  alone  'pistihcs  the  ))i.:l)lication 
of  such  a  sacrcil  <k>c;!;iicnt,  w'iich  wiil  provj  to  the  world 
how  intimately  he  was  pcn^trat.cd  with  all  ll^c  feelings 
which  most  become  a  Chriscip.vi,  a.ul  which  give  higher 
hopes  than  arc  alTorded  bv  Ll»c  pa"i)S  and  nv^rir^  ;»'.  this 
transitory  life."  rh;3  follovving  is  a  transia'-.Ton  :  *'() 
God,  I  give  to  Thee  my  heai  t,  bur,  give  me  fc  ith.  Without 
faith  there  is  no  strong  prayer,  and  to  praj  is  a  longing 
of  my  soul.  I  pray,  mA.  i\\?X  Thou  Tihouldst  take  away 
the  obstacles  on  my  path,  but  <hat  Thou  vnayst  permit 
me  to  Gverccme  them.  I  pray,  not  ih.it  Thou  shoiddst 
disarm  my  enemies,  but  that  Thovi  sl;ruldst  aid  me  to 
conquer  myself.  Hear,  O  God^  my  prayer.  Preserve  to 
my  affection  those  vVo  arc  dear  to  me.  Grant  them 
happy  days.  If'  Thou  only  givest  on  this  earth  a  certain 
sum  of  joy,  take,  »)  God,  ray  share,  and  bestow  it  on  the 
most  worthy,  and  may  the  most  worthy  be  my  friends. 
If  thou  iiCekest  vengeance  on  man,  strike  me.  Misfortune 
is  converted  into  happiness  by  the  sweet  thought  that 
those  whom  we  love  are  happy.  Happiness  is  poisoned 
by  the  bitter  thought :  while  I  rejoice,  those  whom  I  love 
a  thousand  times  better  than  myself  are  suffering.     For 


i' 


i! 


li- 


i 


iff* 


254 


PURGATORY. 


O  God, 


happi 


Take  it  from 


ith. 


mc,  K)  uoa,  no  more  nappmcss.  laKe  it  irom  my  pal 
1  can  only  find  joy  in  forgetting  the  past.  1/  I  forget 
those  ivho  arc  no  more,  I  shall  be  forgotten  in  my  turn,  and 
how  vSad  the  thought  that  makes  me  say,  '  Time  effaces 
all.'  The  only  satisfaction  I  seek  is  that  which  lasts  for- 
ever, that  which  is  given  by  a  tranquil  conscience.  O, 
my  God  !  show  me  where  my  duty  lies,  and  give  me 
strength  to  accomplish  it  always.  Arrived  at  the  term 
of  my  life,  I  shall  turn  my  looks  fearlessly  to  the  past. 
Remember  it  will  not  be  for  me  a  long  remorse.  I  shall 
be  happ3'.  Grant,  O  God,  that  my  heart  may  be  pene- 
trated with  the  conviction  that  those  whom  I  love  and 
who  are  dead  shall  see  all  my  actions.  My  life  shall  be 
worthy  of  this  witness,  and  my  innermost  thoughts  shall 
never  make  them  blush." 

*  -vv  *  *  %  *  ^k 

That  single  line,  "  If  I  forget  those  who  are  no  more, 
I  shall  be  forgotten  in  my  turn,"  is  an  epitome  of  what  is 
taught  us,  and  what  our  own  hearts  feel  in  relation  to  the 
dead.  May  the  noble  young  heart  that  poured  forth  this 
beautiful  prayer  be  remembered  by  Christian  charity 
now  that  he  is  amongst  the  departed  ! 


' 


it 


historical: 


255 


ny  path. 
/  forget 
urn,  and 
2  effaces 
:ists  for- 
ice.  O, 
^ivc  me 
le  term 
he  past. 
I  shall 
e  pene- 
)ve  and 
bhall  be 
its  shall 


o  more, 
what  is 
n  to  the 
rth  this 
charity 


.4 


THE    HELPERS    OF    THE    HOLY   SOULS. 

BY   LADY   GtORGIANA   IILLERTON. 

It  has  always  seemed  to  me  a  particularly  interesting 
subject  of  thought  to  trace  as  far  back  as  possible  the 
origin  of  great  and  good  works, — to  ascertain  what  were 
the  tendencies  or  the  circumstances  which  concurred  in 
awakening  the  first  ideas,  or  giving  the  first  impulses, 
which  have  eventually  led  to  results  the  magnitude  of 
which  was  little  foreseen  by  those  destined  to  bring  them 
about ;  how  much  of  natural  character,  and  what  peculiar 
gifts,  united  with  God's  grace  in  the  formation  of  some 
of  those  grand  developments  of  religion  which  have  been 
the  joy  and  the  glory  of  the  Church. 

*  -,V  ^k  %  ^k  *  -K- 

What  would  we  not  give  to  know,  for  instance,  at  what 
page,  at  what  sentence,  of  the  volume  of  the  "  Lives  of  the 
Saints  "  which  St.  Ignatius  was  reading  on  his  sick  couch 
at  the  Castle  of  Loyola,  the  thought  came  into  his  mind 
the  ultimate  development  of  which  was  the  foundation  of 
the  Society  of  Jesus  ?  or  when  the  blessed  Father  Clavers' 
soul  was  for  the  first  time  moved  by  a  casual  mention, 
perhaps,  of  the  sufferings  of  the  negro  race  ?  or  the  par- 
ticular disappointment  at  some  Parisian  lady  going  out 
of  town  in  the  midst  of  her  works  of  charity,  or  at  another 
being  detained  at  home  by  the  sickness  of  some  relative, 
which  suggested  to  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  the  first  idea  of 
gathering  together  a  few  servant  girls  from  the  country, 
to  do  with  greater  regularity,  if  not  more  zeal,  the  visit- 
ing amongst  the  poor  which  the  ladies  had  undertaken, 
and  thus  founding  the  Order  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity? 
I  suppose  that  every  one  who  has  done  anything  worth 
doing  in  the  course  of  their  lives  could  call  to  mind  the 
moment  when  a  book,  a  sermon,  a  conversation,  a  casual 
word,  perhaps, — or,  if  they  have  been  so  favored,  a  direct 
inspiration  from  God  in  the  hour  of  prayer, — has  given 


.J- 


i  i 


I 


>amm 


256 


PURGATORY. 


the  impulse — set  fire,  as  it  were,  to  the  train  lying  ready 
in  their  hearts.  But  long  before  this  decisive  time  has 
come,  indications  have  existed,  thoughts  have  arisen,  feel- 
ings have  been  awakened,  w^hich,  like  the  cloud  big  as  a 
man's  hand,  have  foreshadowed  the  deluge  of  graces  and 
mercies  about  to  inundate  their  souls. 

As  an  instance  of  these  indications  of  a  particular  bias, 
I  was  struck  with  the  mention  of  a  childish  fancy  in  the 
early  years  of  the  foundress  of  the  Order  of  Helpers  of  the 
Souls  in  Purgatory, — a  new  community,  which  has  sprung 
up  during  the  last  ten  years,  and  lias  a  history  well  worth 
relating.  To  many  this  fresh  manifestation  of  the  spirit 
of  the  Church  on  earth,  and  of  its  close  affinity  with  the 
suffering  Church  in  Purgatory,  has  come  as  a  wonderful 
blessing  and  consolation,  and  inspired  them  with  a  grate- 
ful regard  for  these  new  oblates  and  victims  of  charity  to 
the  dead. 

About  thirty  years  ago  a  little  girl  in  the  town  of  N , 

in  France,  had  been  much  struck  with  the  mention  of 
Purgatory.  It  made  a  very  great  impression  upon  her. 
She  used  to  picture  it  to  herself  as  a  dark  closet,  in  which 
a  little  fri(,.nd  of  hers  who  had  lately  died  was  perhaps 
shut  up,  whilst  she  herself  was  playing  in  the  garden  and 
running  after  butterflies  ;  and  she  kept  longing  to  open 
the  door  and  let  her  out.  This  little  girl  was  subse- 
quently educated  in  one  of  the  Convents  of  the  Sacred 
Heart,  and  learnt  in  that  school  lessons  of  self-devotion 
and  ardent  zeal  for  souls  which  were  hci'eafter  to  bear 
fruit.  She  has  retained  to  this  day  an  enthusiastic  affec- 
tion for  the  religious  teachers  of  her  childhood  ;  and  de- 
votion to  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus  is  one  of  the  principal 
devotions  of  the  order  she  has  founded. 

The  thought  which  had  occurred  to  her  almost  in  in- 
fancy continued  to  haunt  her  in  another  form  as  she  grew 
older.  She  kept  asking  herself,  **  How  could  I  help  God  ? 
He  is  our  helper:  how  can  we  help  Him  ?  He  gives  me 
everything:  how  could  I  give  Him  everything?"  And 
the  answer  which  grace  put  into  her  heart  to  these  oft- 


f 


\' 


g  ready 
ime  has 
en,  feel- 
)ig  as  a 
ces  and 

lar  bias, 
y  in  the 
-s  of  the 
i  sprung 
11  worth 
le  spirit 
vith  the 
Dnderful 
a  grate- 
larity  to 

fN , 

ntion  of 

)on  her. 

n  which 

perhaps 

den  and 

to  open 

3  subse- 

Sacrcd 

evotion 

to  bear 

ic  aftec- 

and  de- 

rincipal 


it  in  jn- 
le  grew 
p  God  ? 
ives  me 
•  And 
^se  t)ft- 


7 


HISTORICAL. 


257 


repeated  questions  was  always,  "  By  paying  the  debts  of 
the  souls  in  Purgatory." 

The  inevitable  result  of  this  thought  was  the  desire  to 
have  wherewith  to  pay  these  debts.  For  this  object  the 
necessity  of  a  perfect  life,  of  a  daily  sanctification,  of  an 
ever-increasing  store  of  merits  and  satisfactions,  was  ob- 
vious. Hence  nrturally  arose  the  idea  of  the  community- 
life,  of  the  practice  of  the  evangelical  counsels,  and  of 
a  meritorious,  arduous,  self-sacrificing  charity  towards 
the  poor,  in  order  worthily  to  pray,  to  act,  and  to  suffer 
for  the  souls  in  Purgatory — to  become,  as  it  were,  a  co- 
operator  with  our  Lord,  by  aiding  His  designs  of  mercy 
towards  them,  whilst  satisfjdng  His  justice  by  voluntary 
expiation.  This  lady  was  not  led  by  one  of  those  start- 
ling bereavements  which  close  a  person's  prospects  of 
earthly  happiness,  and  leave  them  no  object  to  live  for 
but  the  hope  of  winning  mercy  at  God's  hands  for  some 
dear  departed  one  ;  or  by  the  terrible  anxiety  about  the 
state  of  some  beloved  soul  which  forces  on  tlie  survivor 
the  practice  of  a  continual  appeal  to  His  compassionate 
goodness.  Her  zeal  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory  was  per- 
fectly free  from  any  earthly  attachment ;  it  was  as  disin- 
terested as  possible,  and  sprung  up  in  her  heart  before 
she  had  known  what  it  is  to  lose  a  friend  or  a  relative, 
before  she  had  experienced  the  keen  anguish  of  bereave- 
ment. She  was  a  happy,  contented  girl,  living  in  a  cheer- 
ful and  comfortable  home,  beloved  by  her  family,  enjoying 
all  innocent  pleasures,  going  occasionally  into  society, 
and  amusing  herself  like  other  young  people ;  devoted, 
indeed,  to  good  works,  and  taking  the  lead  in  the  numer- 
ous charities  existing  in  her  native  tow^n.  But  this  was 
not  to  be  her  eventual  mode  of  life.  It  was  good  as  far 
as  it  went ;  but  she  had  been  chosen  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  a  special  work,  and  grace  was  continually  urging 
her  to  its  fulfilment. 

On  the  1st  of  November,  1853,  ^Itllle. was  hearing 

vespers  with  her  father  and  her  mother  in  a  church  dedi- 
cated to  Our  Lady.    Whilst  the  Blessed  Sacrament  was 


:  'i 


K! 


I 


I',    '■ 


i>  i 


J. 


^1 


\ 


i. 


258 


PURGATORY. 


f 


being  exposed  on  the  altar,  she  felt  a  strong  internal  in- 
spiration prompting  her  to  form  an  association  of  prayers 
and  offerings  for  the  dead  ;  but,  afraid  of  being  misled  by 
her  imagination,  she  prayed  earnestly  that  God  would 
give  her  a  sign  that  this  was  indeed  His  will.  As  she 
was  coming  out  of  the  church,  a  friend  of  hers  stopped 
her  in  the  porch,  and  of  her  own  accord  proposed  that 
they  should  offer  up  jointly,  during  the  montli  set  apart 
for  special  devotion  to  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  all  their 
prayers  and  works  for  their  relief.  This  seemed  to  her 
a  token  that  her  inspiration  had  been  a  true  one,  and  that 
very  evening  an  association  wns  begun  which  by  this 
time  numbers  not  less  than  filtcen  thousand  members. 
On  the  following  day,  the  2d  of  November,  during  her 

thanksgiving  after  Communion,  Mdlle. was  strongly 

impressed  with  the  thought  that  there  existed  orders  in- 
tended to  supply  every  need  in  the  Church  militant,  but 
none  exclusively  devoted  to  the  relief  of  the  suffering 
portion  of  the  Church,  and  it  appeared  to  her  that  she 
was  called  upon  to  fill  up  this  void.  This  idea  seemed 
at  the  outset  too  bold  a  one.  She  felt  startled,  almost 
alarmed,  at  its  magnitude,  and  earnestly  entreated  our 
Lord  to  make  known  to  her  if  such  was  indeed  to  be  her 
mission.  She  begged  of  Him,  by  His  Five  Sacred 
Wounds,  to  give  her  five  indications  of  His  will  in  this 
respect.  Her  prayers  were  iieard,  and  during  the  course 
of  the  years  1854  and  1855  these  tokens  were  successively 
vouchsafed  to  her.  What  she  had  asked  for  was,  ist, 
that  the  Holy  Father  should  approve  of  in  writing,  and 
give  his  blessing  to,  the  association  of  pra3^ers  set  on  foot 
on  All  Saints'  Day  (on  the  7th  of  July,  1854,  Pius  IX. 
wrote,  with  his  own  hand,  at  the  bottom  of  the  petition 
presented  to  him,  "  Bcncdicat  vos  Dais  bcncdictionc  per- 
pctua,'' — may  God  bless  you  witli  an  everlasting  blessing) ; 
2d,  that  a  great  number  of  Bishops  should  approve  of 
this  association  ;  3d,  that  it  should  extend  rapidly ;  4th, 
that  a  few  pious  persons  should  co-operate  in  the  scheme, 
and  devote  themselves  to  works  of  charity  in  behalf  of 


HISTORICAL. 


259 


itcrnal  in- 
3f  prayers 
misled  by 
od  would 
.  As  she 
s  stopped 
osed  that 
set  apart 
,  all  their 
ed  to  her 
:,  and  that 
h  by  this 
members. 
Liring  her 
;  strongly 
orders  in- 
iitant,  but 
suffering 
'  that  she 
a  seemed 
d,  almost 
ated  our 
to  be  her 
3  Sacred 
11  in  this 
le  course 
cessively 
was,  1st, 
ting,  and 
t  on  foot 
iPius  IX. 

petition 
tone  pcr- 
lessing) ; 
prove  of 
Uy  ;  4th, 

scheme, 
iehalf  of 


the  souls  in  Purgator}'-;  5th,  that  a  priest  might  be  met 
with  who  had  previously  formed  a  similar  project. 

In  the  month  of  July,  1855,  Mdlle. thought  of  con- 
sulting the  Cure  d'Ars,  whom  she  had  for  the  first  time 
heard  of  a  little  while  before.  Tlie  sanctity  of  this  ex- 
traordinary man  was  beginning  to  be  much  spoken  of, 
not  only  in  France,  but  all  over  Europe.  Pilgrims  flocked 
to  the  insignificant  little  town  of  Ars,  seeking  the  advice 
and  help  of  the  poor  curt' — whose  ascetic  mode  of  life, 
spiritual  discernment,  heroic  virtues,  and  even  miraculous 
gifts,  were  gradually  becoming  known,  in  spite  of  the 
desperate  efforts  he  made  to  conceal  them.  We  can 
hardly  imagine,  when  reading  his  Life,  that  in  the  neigh- 
boring country  of  France,  and  in  our  own  day,  a  man  was 
actually  living  that  we  might  have  seen  and  spoken  and 
gone  to  confession  to,  the  details  of  who^c  supernatural 
existence  arc  like  the  marvels  that  we  read  of  in  the  "  Lives 

of  the  Saints."     Mdlle. felt  persuaded  that  this  holy 

priest  was  the  instrument  appointed  by  God  to  make  her 
acquainted  with  His  will,  and  earnestly  longed  in  some 
way  or  other  to  communicate  with  him.  She  did  not 
think  of  obtaining  leave  from  her  parents  to  go  to  iVrs. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  his  answer  to  her  question,  after  he 
had  considered  the  subject  before  God  in  prayer,  would 
be  more  unbiassed,  and  carry  greater  weight  with  it,  than 
if  she  had  spoken  of  it  to  him  herself.  She  did  not  wish 
to  be  influenced  by  any  human  considerations,  or  to  be 
tempted  to  say  more  than,  ''  Such  is  my  thought  and  de- 
sire; does  it  come  from  God?"  With  this  view  she 
began  a  novena,  and  on  the  day  it  ended  one  of  her  friends 
called  to  tell  her  she  was  going  to  Ars,  and  to  inquire  if 
she  could  do  anything  for  her.  On  the  5tli  of  August 
this  friend  sent  her  M.  Vianney's  answer:  "  Tell  her  that 
she  can  establish,  as  soon  as  she  likes,  an  order  for  the 
souls  in  Purgatory." 

The  future  foundress  never  had  any  personal  communi- 
cation with  the  Cure  d'Ars,  and  yet  he  always  used  to 
say,  "  I  know  her." 


:      i 


r,    ' 


«       l| 


260 


PURGATORY. 


On  the  30th  of  October  Mdlle. entreated  him  to 

pray  on  All  Souls'  Day  for  her  intention,  and  on  the  nth 
of  November  the  Abbe  T ,  his  assistant  in  his  exten- 
sive correspondence,  wrote  to  her  as  follows  : 

"  Your  edifying  letter  reached  meat  Pont  d'Ain,  where 
our  worthy  Bishop,  Monseigneur  Chalandon,  was  preach- 
ing a  retreat.  This  seemed  expressly  arranged  by  Provi- 
dence, in  order  that  I  should  speak  to  him  of  you  and 
your  pious  projects.  On  my  return  to  Ars,  on  All  Souls' 
Day,  I  mentioned  your  wishes  to  my  holy  cure,  begging 
him  to  meditate  on  the  subject  in  prayer  before  he  gave 
me  an  answer.  Three  or  four  times  since  I  have  put  to 
him  the  same  question,  and  always  received  the  same 
answer.  *  He  tliinks  that  it  is  God  who  has  inspired  you 
with  the  thought  of  a  heroic  self-devotion,  and  that  you 
will  do  well  to  found  an  order  in  behalf  of  the  souls  in 
.  Purgatory.'  Whether  the  good  curd  speaks  in  conse- 
quence of  a  divine  enlightenment,  or  whether  he  only 
expresses  his  own  opinion  and  his  own  wishes,  which  his 
tender  devotion  to  the  souls  in  Purgatory  would  naturally 
incline  in  favor  of  your  design,  neither  I  nor  any  of  those 
most  intimately  acquainted  with  him  can  presume  to  say. 
But  you  can  remain  certain  of  two  things, — that  he  quite 
approves  of  your  vocation  to  the  religious  life,  and  of  the 
foundation  of  this  new  order,  which  he  thinks  will  in- 
crease rapidly.  This  is  surely  enough  to  confirm  you  in 
your  intention,  which  you  will  carry  into  effect  whenever 
and  wherever  it  will  please  God  to  open  a  way  to  it,  and 
you  vill  then  be  the  faithful  instrument  of  His  Divine 
Providence." 

On  the  25th  of  the  same  month  M.  Vianney  sent  a  mes- 
sage to  Mdlle. in  answer  to  a  letter  in  which  she 

had  spoken  of  the  obstacles  which  she  foresaw  on  the 
part  of  her  family.     The  Abbe  T writes : 

"If  I  have  not  written  to  you  before,  it  is  because  you 
particularly  wished  to  have  an  an.  ver  after  special  prayer. 
And  now  here  is  this  much-wi^.ied-for  answer.  The 
good  curd  has  expressed  himself  as  explicitly  as  possible. 


1  him  to 
the  nth 
is  exten- 

n,  where 
>  preach- 
y  Provi- 
yoii  and 
il  Souls' 
begging 
he  gave 

2  put   to 

le  same 
ired  you 
that  you 
souls  in 
1  consc- 
he  only 
hich  his 
iaturally 
of  those 

3  to  say. 

he  quite 

d  of  the 

will  in- 

you  in 
hencver 
)  it,  and 

Divine 

t  a  mcs- 

ich  she 

on  the 

use  you 
'prayer. 
.  The 
ossible. 


HISTORICAL. 


261 


I  told  him  that  you  were  troubled  at  the  thought  of  a 
separation  from  your  family  more  on  their  account  than 
your  own,  and  also  at  relinquishing  the  many  charitable 
works  which  you  carry  on  in  your  parish.  To  my  great 
surprise,  he  who  generally  very  strongly  recommends 
young  people  not  to  act  against  their  parents'  wishes,  but 
patiently  to  await  their  consent,  did  not  hesitate  in  ad- 
vising you  to  proceed.  He  says  that  the  tears  your 
parents  are  now  shedding  will  soon  be  dried  uj).  Do  not, 
then,  be  afraid  to  let  your  heart  burn  with  the  love  of 
Jesus.  He  will  find  a  way  of  removing  all  the  obstacles 
in  your  path,  and  of  making  you  an  angel  of  consolation 
to  His  \  oly  spouses,  the  souls  in  Purgatory.  The  moon 
has  no  light  in  herself,  and  only  reflects  that  of  the  sun. 
This  is  truly  my  case  with  regard  to  our  saintly  priest.  I 
will  constantly  remind  him  to  pray  for  you,  and  will  unite 
my  unworthy  prayers  to  his,  that,  in  the  terrible  struggle 
in  your  heart  between  nature  and  grace,  grace  may  re- 
main victorious." 

When   this   letter   reached    Mdlle. ,  the   principal 

difficulty  she  foresaw  was  already  removed.  On  the  21st 
of  November,  the  Feast  of  the  Presentation  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin,  her  mother,  seeing  that  her  heart  was  ready  to 
break  with  the  wish  and  the  fear  of  broaching  the  subject 
so  painfully  interesting  to  them  both,  had  the  pious  cour- 
age to  speak  first,  and  to  give  her  full  consent  to  her 
child's  vocation. 

Both  mother  and  daughter  were  struck  some  time 
afterwards  at  finding  in  a  little  prayer-book  they  had  not 
seen  before,  called  "  The  Month  of  November  Conse- 
crated to  the  Souls  in  Purgatory,"  the  following  prayer, 
appointed  to  be  said  on  the  21st  of  November,  the  very 
day  on  which  they  had  made  their  sacrifice,  and  uttered 
for  the  first  time  the  bitter  word  separation 

"  O  Holy  Spirit !  who  at  divers  times  has  raised  up  re- 
ligious orders  for  the  needs  of  the  Church  Militant;  O 
Father  of  Light !  full  of  compassion  and  zeal  for  the  dead ; 
we  implore  Thee  to  raise  up  also  in  behalf  of  the  suffer- 


2C2 


PURGATORY. 


in<:^  Church  a  new  order,  the  object  of  which  will  be  to 
work  day  and  night  for  the  relief  and  the  deliverance  of 
the  souls  in  l\ir<^atory  ;  whose  intentions,  invariably  ded- 
icated to  the  dead,  will  apply  to  then  the  merits  of  all 
their  prayers,  fastings,  vigils,  and  good  works.  Thou 
alone,  Creating  Spirit,  canst  achieve  a  work  which  will 
procure  so  much  glory  to  God,  and  for  which  we  shall 
never  cease  to  sigh  and  pray." 

Other  difficulties  failed   not  to  arise.     vSomc   persons 

were  of  opinion  that  jNIdlle,  ought  to  remain  in  the 

world  for  the  very  sake  of  the  objects  she  had  in  view, 
whereas  her  whole  heart  and  soul  were  bent  on  conse- 
crating herself  without  any  reserve  to  our  Lord.  She 
was  warned  that  her  parents,  who  had  never  been  sepa- 
rated from  their  children,  would  suffer  terribly  if  she  left 
them ;  and  finally,  her  own  health  began  to  fail.  But 
whilst  the  world  and  the  devil  were  multiplying  the  ob- 
stacles in  her  way,  the  venerable  Cure  d'Ars  spared 
neither  advice  nor  encouragement  to  support  her  in  her 
arduous  struggle.  On  the  23d  of  December  his  coadjutor 
writes : 

"  Divine  Providence  always  acts  with  sweetness  and 
with  power.  The  consent  of  your  good  mother  is  an  im- 
])ortant  step  gained.  The  good  aire,  advises  you  not  to 
go  to  Paris  until  you  have  some  means  wherewith  to  begin 
your  work.  You  will  do  well  to  avail  yourself  of  the  in- 
terest you  possess  in  your  diocese  to  obtain  some  aid 
towards  it.  The  cure  entirely  approves  of  your  becom- 
ing a  religious.  It  is  quite  possible  that  God  may  restore 
your  health;  and  he  advises  you  to  make  a  novena  to  St. 
Philomena. 

"  The  very  day  I  received  your  letter,  Monseigneur 
Chalandon,  our  worthy  Bishop,  came  to  Ars,  to  call  on 
my  holy  cure.  I  mentioned  you  to  him.  He  told  me 
he  had  written  to  you.  He  also  says  that  you  must  not 
begin  without  some  means  and  better  health.  Pray  very 
hard  that  God  may  give  you  both.  I  think  the  souls  in 
Purgatory  ought  to  take  this  opportunity  to  prove  that 


HISTORICAL. 


263 


nil  be  to 
trance  of 
ibly  dcd- 
its  of  all 
>.  Thou 
liicli  will 
wc  shall 

persons 
11  in  the 
in  view, 
ti  conse- 
•d.  She 
en  sepa- 

she  left 
il.     But 

the  ob- 

spared 
'  in  her 
adjutor 

3SS  and 

;  an  im- 

not  to 

0  begin 
the  in- 

ne  aid 
beeom- 
restore 

1  to  St. 

igneur 
:all  on 
)ld  me 
ist  not 
y  very 
)uls  in 
e  that 


. 


they  have  influence  with   God.     Their  interests  are  at 

stake  in  the  removal  of  these  obstacles."     Mdlle. had 

asked  to  make  this  novena  conjointly  with  M.  Vianney  ; 
and  she  soon  received  the  following  letter: 

"  It  is  to-day,  the  9th  of  January,  that  our  much- 
wished-for  novena  is  to  begin.  The  souls  in  l^urgatory 
are  interested  in  the  re-establishment  of  your  health.  I  am, 
you  know,  but  the  echo  of  our  good  and  holy  ciin'.  Your 
director  gives  you  excellent  advice.  You  might,  indeed, 
as  soon  as  you  have  means  enough  of  sui)p()rt  for  one 
year,  go  to  l^uis  for  a  while,  and  come  back  again  to 
forward  the  Nvork  in  the  same  way  you  are  doing  now\ 
You  say,  '  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  used  to  begin  his  works 
with  nothing.'  So  he  did.  But  then,  as  my  good  ciwc 
observes,  '  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  was  a  great  saint ! '  " 

According  to  jM.  Vianncy's  advice,  on  the  19th  of  Jan- 
uary, 1856,  the  foundress  v.ent  to  Paris,  where  she  met 
some  persons  who  had,  like  her,  resolved  to  devote  them- 
selves to  the  service  of  the  souls  in  Purgatory ;  but  who 
were  quite  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed,  and  had  no  means 
of  support.  .Ml  sorts  of  crosses  awaited  this  little  band 
of  I  lelpers  of  the  Moly  wSouls,  for  such  was  the  name 
they  had  taken.  Not  only  were  funds  wanting  for  their 
establishment,  but  they  did  not  know  where  to  apply  for 
work,  and  sufferings  of  every  kind  assailed  them.     Mdlle. 

experienced  what  alwaj'S  happens  to  generous  souls 

at^thc  outset  of  their  enterprises,  v/hen  they  have  unre- 
servedly devoted  themselves  to  the  service  of  God,  and 
are  being  tried  like  gold  in  the  furnace.  I^lamc  and 
neglect  became  her  portion.  Nobody  thought  it  worth 
their  while  to  assist  a  little  band  of  women,  whose  heroic 
project  had  seemed  admirable,  indeed,  in  theory,  but 
was  now  declared  to  be  impracticable.  They  were  con- 
sidered as  mere  enthusiasts ;  and,  indeed,  as  was  said  by 
IM.  Dcsgenettcs,  the  venerable  Cure  of  Notre  Dame  des 
Victoires,  they  were  truly  possessed  with  the  holy  folly 
of  tlic  Cross. 

Meantime  they  had  to  work  for  their  bread,  and  did 


l! 


rT 


264 


PURGATORY. 


f 


work  with  all  their  mij^lit.  But  it  was  not  always  that 
work  coulrl  be  obtained;  and  trials  without  end  beset 
the  infant  eommunity,  lodged  in  an  attie  in  the  Rue  St. 
Martin.  Every  day,  as  they  asked  their  Heavenly 
Father  for  their  daily  bread,  they  prepared  themselves 
to  receive  with  it  their  habitual  portion  of  sufferings  and 
privations — a  fit  noviceship  for  souls  undertaking  a  work 

of  heroic  expiation.     Mdlle. ,  who,  for  the  firr,t  time 

in  her  life  quitted  a  home  where  she  had  known  all  the 
comforts  of  affluence,  had  to  undergo  numberless  priva- 
tions. Illness  combined  with  poverty  to  heighten  their 
trials.  Their  Divine  Master  made  them  experi  ;nce  the 
kind  of  suffering  which  it  was  hereafter  to  be  their 
special  vocation  to  relieve.  The  Cure  d'Ars  fully  under- 
stood the  nature  of  that  training,  and  never  offered  them 
any  help  but  that  of  his  advice  and  prayjrs.  "  He  does 
not  give  you  anything,"  says  a  letter  written  on  the  i6th 
of  March,  "  but  Jic  will  ask  wSt.  Philomena,  his  heavenly 
treasurer,  to  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  those  who  could 
assist  you  to  do  so."  And,  indeed,  help  used  to  come 
whenever  the  distress  of  the  holy  society  became  too 
urgent.  One  day  the  foundress  had  not  a  single  penny 
left,  and  was,  to  use  a  common  expression,  at  her  wits* 
end.  But,  thank  God,  there  is  something  better  than 
human  wits  or  human  ingenuity  in  such  extremities ; 
and  that  is  prayer.  The  Sister  who  acted  as  house- 
keeper placed  her  bills  before  the  Superioress,  and  asked 

for  money  to  buy  food  for  the  day.     Mdlle. told 

her  to  wait  a  little,  and  went  out,  not  knowing  very  well 
what  to  do  next.  She  entered  a  church,  threw  herself  on 
her  knees  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  and  prayed 
long  and  fervently.  As  she  was  coming  away  she 
stopped  before  an  image  of  our  Holy  Mother,  and  clasp- 
ing her  hands,  exclaimed :  "  My  Blessed  Mother,  you 
must  get  me  100  francs  to-day.  I  will  take  no  refusal. 
You  cannot,  you  never  do  forsake  your  children."  She 
went  straight  home,  and  up  the  dingy  stairs  into  the 
little  room  inhabited  by  the  infant  community.     The  in- 


HISTORICAL. 


lys  that 
id  beset 
Rue  St. 
cavenly 
;m  selves 
ngs  and 
a  work 
rr,t  time 

1  all  the 
s  priva- 
en  tiieir 
;ncc  the 
DC  their 
Y  under- 
cd  them 
He  does 
the  1 6th 
icavenly 
o  could 

o  come 
ime   too 

2  penny 
cr  wits' 
cr  than 
:mitics  ; 

housc- 
d  asked 
—  told 
ry  well 
rsclf  on 
prayed 
;iy  she 
clasp- 
r,  you 
efusal. 
'  She 
to  the 
he  in- 


h 


265 


stant  she  opened  the  door  her  eyes  fell  on  a  letter  lyini^ 
on  the  table.  She  opened  it  with  a  beatinj^  heart,  and 
found  in  it  a  note  of  100  francs.  There  was  no  name ; 
not  a  word  written  on  the  cover.  The  postman  had  just 
left  it,  and  to  this  day  the  donor  of  this  sum,  or  the  place 
it  came  from,  has  not  been  discovered.  Another  time 
ei^ht  sous  was  all  that  remained  in  the  purse  of  the  asso- 
ciates. They  agreed  to  lay  out  this  money  to  advantac^e, 
and  accordin*^ly  employed  it  in  purchasin<^  a  little  statue 
of  St.  Joseph,  whom  they  instituted  their  treasurer. 
The  Saint  has  fulfilled  ever  since  the  trust  reposed  in 
him ;  but  he  often  waits  till  the  very  last  moment  to 
supply  the  necessities  of  his  clients.  I  have  seen  this 
little  image  in  their  convents.  It  is,  of  course,  very  dear 
to  them. 

One  day,  when  no  needle-work  was  to  be  had,  and  dis- 
tress was  threatening  them,  a  little  girl  came  to  their 
room,  and  asked  if  they  had  finished  the  bracelets  she 
had  been  told  to  call  for.  Finding  she  had  mistaken  the 
direction,  the  child  said  :  "  You  could  have  some  of  that 
work  to  do  if  you  liked." 

Upon  inquiry  they  found  that  the  employment  con- 
sisted in  threading  rows  of  pearls  for  foreign  exporta- 
tion ;  that  it  was  less  fatiguing  and  better  paid  than 
needle-work,  and  proved  for  some  months  a  valuable  re- 
source. On  another  occasion  the  sum  of  500  francs 
was  required  for  some  pressing  necessity.  This  time 
the  foundress  had  recourse  to  our  Lady  of  Victories. 
Having  placed  the  matter  in  her  hands,  she  w^ent  to  call 
on  a  person  whom  she  thought  might  lend  her  this 
money,  but  met  with  a  decided  negative.  She  did  not 
know  any  one  else  in  Paris  to  whom  she  could  apply  ; 
but  on  leaving  the  house  she  met  a  gentleman,  with 
whom  she  had  no  previous  acquaintance,  who  came  up 

to  her  and  said :  "  I  think  you  are  Mdlle. ,  and  that 

ypu  have  a  special  devotion  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory. 
Will  you  allow  me  to  place  this  500  francs  at  your  dis- 
posal, and  to  recommend  my  intentions  to  your  prayers  ? " 


f 


i  ' 


Mil 

5 


1 


^y 

K  ij 


t^ 


*p 


266 


I'UUGATOKY. 


Mcainvlulc  illnesses  and  trials  continued  to  afiect  the 

little   coninumity.     The   Abbe  T writes   Ironi  Ars  : 

"  Do  not  ask  lor  miraculous  cures.  M.  Ic  Cure  coni- 
l)lains  that  St.  i'hiloinena  sends  us  too  many  i)eoi)le." 
The  next  letter  is  lull  ot  kind  encoura^icement :  "J/.  Ic 
Cure  only  smiles  when  I  tell  him  all  you  have  to  j^o 
through,  antl  he  bids  me  repeat  the  same  thins^  to  you, 
which  he  desired  me  to  write  to  a  jj^ood  Sister,  de- 
voted to  all  sorts  of  j^ood  works  and  sullerin^^  cruel  per- 
secution. '  Tell  her  that  these  crosses  are  llowers  which 
will  soon  bear  fruit.'  Vou  have  thou.i,dit,  [)rayed,  taken 
advice,  and  thoroughly  weij^'hed  the  sacrilices  3'ou  will 
have  to  make,  and  you  have  every  reason  to  believe 
that  in  doinsj;-  this  work  you  are  doini^  God's  will.  The 
cnerf^y  which  lie  alone  can  give  will  enable  you  to  ac- 
complish what  you  have  bc<;un."  ..."  J/.  Ic  Curt' 
has  said  to  me  several  times,  in  a  tone  of  the  stnmgest 
conviction,  'Their  enterprise  cannot  fail  to  succeed  ;  but 
the  foundress  will  have  to  experience  what  anxiety  and 
what  labor,  what  efforts  and  what  sufferinij^s,  have  to  be 
endured  ere  such  a  work  can  be  consolidated;  but,' he 
adds, '  if  God  is  with  them,  who  shall  be  against  them  ?  '  " 

On  the  20th  of  June  the  Superioress  received  another 
letter  from  the  same  good  priest : 

"  I  feel  deeply  affected,"  he  writes,  "  at  the  thought  of 
the  many  and  severe  trials  which  beset  you.  Tell  your 
friend  that  the  holv  cure  bids  her  not  to  look  back,  but 
obey  with  courage  the  sacred  call  she  has  received.  The 
souls  in  Purgatory  must  be  enabled  lo  say  of  you,  'We 
have  advocates  on  earth  who  can  feel  for  us,  because  they 
know  themselves  what  it  is  to  suffer.'  .\nd  mind  you  go 
on  praying  to  St.  Phihjmena,  and  begging  of  her  to 
obtain  for  you  the  means  necessary  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  your  holy  projects." 

The  associates  continued  to  pray,  to  work,  and  to  suffer 
with  patience  and  cheerfulness.  They  received  at  last 
some  unexpected  assistance.  New  members  proposed  to 
join  them ;  but  it  became  then  absolutely  necessary  to 


1. 


IIISTORICAI,. 


Tcct  the 
m  Ars  : 
r/  com- 

[)C()I)lc.  " 

"J/,  /c- 
c  to  ii;o 

to  you, 
acr,  dc- 
•ucl  i)cr- 
s  wliich 
(1,  taken 
you  will 

believe 
ill.  The 
.)U  to  ae- 
,  /c  Cnn' 
itrongest 
;ccl  ;  but 
icty  and 
vc  to  be 

but;  he 


.1 


icm  . 
another 


)ui;ht  of 
ell  your 
ack,  but 
d.  The 
ou,  *  We 
use  they 
you  go 
her  to 
omplish- 

to  suffer 
I  at  last 
:)0scd  to 
ssary  to 


267 


hire  a  liousc.  The  wSupcriorcss  searched  in  every  direc- 
tion for  a  suitable  one,  but  without  success.  It  seems  as 
if  the  words,  "  tiiere  was  no  room  for  them,"  were  destiuetl 
to  i)r()ve  ai)|)licable  to  all  relii^ious  foundations  durinu^ 
their  periods  of  j)robati()nary  trial.  After  having;  exerted 
iierself,  and  employed  others  in  vain  for  a  Ioujlj^  time,  the 
Superioress  received  a  messaj^e  from  a  holy  man  vv  iiosc 
prayers  she  had  asked,  desirinij^  her  to  ^0  to  a  pai  ticular 
part  of  the  town,  and  to  await  there  some  providential 
indication  as  to  the  abode  she  was  seekini^.  For  several 
hours  slie  paced  up  and  down  the  streets  of  tliat  ])art  of 
Paris,  prayinjj^  interiorly,  but  totally  at  a  loss  where  to 
apply.  At  last  she  accidentally  turned  into  the  Rue  de 
la  Barouillierc,  and  saw  a  house  and  garden  witii  a  bill 
upon  it  indicating  that  it  was  to  be  let  or  sold.  She  im- 
mediately asked  to  go  over  it.  All  sorts  of  difficulties, 
a})parently  insurmountable  ones,  stood  in  the  way  of  the 
purchase.  They  were  overcome  in  a  strangely  imac- 
countable  manner,  and  the  money  which  had  to  be  paid 
in  advance  was  actually  forthcoming  on  the  appointed 
day,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  concerned.  Tiie  history 
of  this  negotiation,  and  the  wonderful  answers  to  prayer 
vouchsafed  in  the  course  of  it,  are  very  striking  ;  only 
the  more  we  study  the  manifestations  of  God's  Provi- 
dence with  regard  to  works  carried  on  in  faith  and  simple 
reliance  on  His  assistance,  the  more  accusionicd  we  get  to 
these  miracles  of  mercy.  The  Helpers  of  the  Souls  in 
Purgatory  took  possession  of  their  new  home  on  the  ist 
of  July,  1856,  and  not  long  after  began  their  labors 
amongst  the  poor.  An  act  of  kindness  solicited  at  their 
hands  towards  a  sick  and  destitute  neiirhbor  soon  after 
their  arrival,  was  the  primary  cause  of  their  choosing  as 
their  particular  line  of  charity  attendance  on  the  sick  poor 
in  their  own  destitute  homes  by  day  and  by  night  also. 
This,  together  with  their  prayers,  their  fasts,  and  their 
watches,  is  the  continual  sacrifice  they  offer  up  for  the 
souls  in  Purgatory. 


* 


Hi 


* 


< 


■ 

f  .1 


•kc: 


,<^"^Ktt^in«g;w»* 


268 


PURGATORY. 


Before  I  go  on  with  the  history  of  the  Helpers  of  the 
Holy  Souls  in  Purgatory,  I  must  describe  to  you  their 
house, — No.  16  Rue  de  la  Barouilliere, — a  very  small  and 
inconvenient  one  at  the  time  of  their  installation,  but 
which  has  since  been  re-modelled  according  to  the  wants 
of  the  increasing  community,  and  an  adjoining  one  added 
to  it.  I  have  often  visited  tliis  convent,  which  soon  be- 
comes dear  to  those  who  would  fain  help  the  many  be- 
loved ones  removed  from  their  sight,  but  feel  the  impo- 
tency  of  their  own  efforts,  their  want  of  holiness,  of  courage, 
and  of  perseverance  in  this  blessed  work.  The  sight  of 
this  religious  house  is  very  touching ;  the  inscriptions  on 
the  walls,  which  are  taken  from  the  Holy  Scriptures  and 
the  writings  of  the  Saints,  all  bear  reference  to  the  state 
of  departed  souls,  and  our  duty  towards  them ;  the  quiet 
ch  ^^el  where  the  Office  for  the  Dead  is  daily  said,  and  a 
nuaiber  of  Masses  offered  up.  The  memorials  of  the 
saintly  Cure  d'Ars,  whose  spirit  seems  to  hover  over  the 
place,  gives  a  peculiar  character  to  its  aspect.  The  nuns 
do  not  wear  the  religious  dress,  but  are  simply  dressed 
in  black,  like  persons  in  mourning. 

i^  vV  -A-  %  -»  *  * 

On  the  1 8th  of  August,  1856,  Monseigneur  Sibour,  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  came  to  visit  and  bless  the  1  ew 
community.  **  It  is  a  grain  of  mustard-seed,"  he  said, 
*'  which  will  become  a  great  tree,  and  spread  its  branches 
far  and  wide."  He  approved  of  all  that  had  been  done 
since  the  house  had  been  opened,  and  allowed  Mass  to  be 
said  every  day  in  the  chapel  as  soon  as  it  could  be  prop- 
erly fitted  up,  which  was  the  case  on  the  ensuing  5th  of 
November.  On  the  8th  of  the  same  month  the  house 
was  solemnly  consecrated  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  ;  the 
keys  w;.re  laid  at  the  feet  of  her  image,  and  she  was  en- 
treated to  become  herself  the  Superioress  of  the  congre- 
gation. 

It  was  on  the  27th  of  December,  the  feast  of  the  disciple 
whom  Jesus  loved,  the  great  apostle  of  charity,  that  tlic 
foundress  and  five  other  Sisters  made  their  first  vows. 


? 


s  of  the 
3U  their 
mall  and 
ion,  but 
10  wants 
ic  added 
sOon  be- 
iiany  be- 
ic  impo- 
couragc, 
sight  of 
)tions  on 
ires  and 
:he  state 
the  quiet 
id,  and  a 
s   of  the 
over  the 
rhc  nuns 
'  dressed 

* 
)Our,  the 

the  1  e\v 
he  said, 
tranches 
en  done 
ass  to  be 
3C  prop- 
ig  5th  of 
ic  house 
;in  ;  the 
was  en- 


congre- 


disciplc 
that  the 
st  vows. 


'► 


HISTORICAL. 


269 


A  few  days  afterwards,  Monscigneur  Sibour  was  about 
to  siirn  a  errant  of  indulircnces  for  the  work  of  the  re- 
ligious ;  some  one  standing  beside  him  said,  "  Monseigneur, 
the  souls  in  Purgatory  are  guit.ing  your  pen."  He 
smiled,  and  made  haste  to  write  his  name.  He  little 
thought  how  soon  he  would  be  himself  numbered  with 
the  dead.  It  was  on  the  3d  of  January,  1857,  that  his 
tragical  death  took  place. 

^A  -VV  *  if:  •;<•  ^  * 

On  the  4th  of  August,  1859,  ^^^^  holy  Cure  of  Ars  died  ; 
but  he  lives  in  the  hearts  and  in  tlie  memories  of  the 
community  which  owes  so  much  to  his  prayers  and  his 
advice.  His  name  is  frequently  on  their  lips  ;  often  lias 
his  intercession  obtained  for  them  miraculous  cures. 
Every  memorial  of  him  is  carefully  preserved  and  vener- 
ated. 

^V  *  *  Tfr  ^  %  * 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1859,  ^^^  the  Feast  of  St.  Bene- 
dict, Cardinal  INIorlot  sanctioned  the  institution  of  a  third 
order  of  Helpers  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory,  and  the 
affiliation  to  it  of  honorary  members.  The  ladies  of  the 
third  order  engage  to  lead  a  practically  Christian  life  in 
the  world,  to  perform  exactly  all  their  religious  duties, 
and  those  of  their  state  of  life.  They  promise,  in  their 
measure,  to  suffer,  act,  and  pray  for  the  dead,  and  offer 
up  their  good  works,  the  sacrifices  they  may  be  inspired 
to  make,  and  the  devotions  prescribed  by  a  simple  and 
easy  rule  adapted  to  their  condition,  for  this  object.  ... 
On  the  day  of  the  institution  of  the  third  order,  twenty- 
eight  ladies  joined  it,  received  the  cross,  and  made  their 
act  of  consecration  in  presence  of  the  Archbishop.  The 
honorary  members  have  been  continually  and  rapidly 
increasing  in  number. 

%  it  '^  *  *  *  4f 

The  new  order  has  a  special  devotion  to  St.  Joseph,  the 
great  minister  of  God's  mercy  to  all  religious,  the  partic- 
ular protector  of  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  the  foster-father 
of  Christ's  poor,  and  the  helper  of  the  dying.     He  was 


il 

1 

1     i 

^ 

ll5 


I  11 


Mi 


.-c 


iMTim-rifiiiiarMigt-jwsgai 


( 


270 


PURGATORY. 


himself  once  in  limbo,  and  knows  what  it  is  to  wait.  It 
h  scarcely  necessary  to  speak  of  their  devotion  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  whom  they  have  crowned  as  the  Queen 
of  Purgatory,  and  invoke  under  the  title  of  Our  Lady  of 
Providence.  They  specially  keep  the  Feast  of  the  Sacred 
Heart,  those  of  St.  Ignatius  and  St.  Gertrude  ;  but  All 
Souls  is  of  course  the  day  of  their  most  particular  devo- 
tion. The  Holy  Sacrament  is  exposed  during  the  whole 
time  of  the  Octave. 

vV  V:  *  %'fr  *  %  % 

And  now,  to  use  words  of  Pere  Blot,  of  the  Society  of 
Jesus  :  "  How  consoling  a  thought  it  is  that  as  the  Holy 
Souls  in  Puigatory,  in  all  probability,  and  according  to 
the  opinion  of  the  greatest  theologians,  know  what  we  do 
for  them,  and  pray  for  us,  they  see  these  acts  of  charity  ; 
they  see  these  devoted  women  making  themselves  the 
slaves  of  the  poor,  and  sowing  in  tears,  that  they  them- 
selves may  reap  in  joy.  We  cannot  also  but  believe  that 
the  pra3'ers  of  the  Holy  Souls,  and  pc  "laps  their  influence, 
contrii)ute  to  the  success  of  the  mission  carried  on  for 
their  sakes  and  in  their  name  amidst  the  poor  and  suffer- 
ing. Several  times  when  they  have  been  invoked  by  the 
community,  wonderful  cures  have  been  vouchsafed  and 
favors  obtained.  Instances  of  this  kind  iiave  excited  the 
astonishment  of  physicians,  and  confirmed  a  pious  belief 
in  the  efficacy  of  those  prayers.  St.  Catlierine,  of 
Bologna,  used  t;)  say,  '  When  I  wish  to  obtain  some  favor 
from  tlie  Eternal  Fatlicr,  I  invoke  the  souls  in  the  place 
of  expiation,  and  charge  them  with  the  petition  I  have  to 
make  to  Him,  and  I  feel  I  am  heard  through  their  means.' 
Let  us,  then,  if  wo  feel  inspired  to  do  so,  ask  the  pra)^ers 
of  the  souls  in  Purgatory  ;  but,  above  all  things,  let  us 
pray  for  them,  and,  like  these  religious,  join  to  our  prayers 
acts  of  self-denying  charit}''  towards  the  poor.  Let  us 
always  remember,  that  to  the  Eternal  Lord  of  all  things 
cver3'thing  is  present  —  the  future  as  well  as  the  past.  kVc 
call  Him  t!ic  King  of  Ages,  because  the  order  of  events 
depends  wholly  on  His  will,  and  nothing  in  their  course 


.. 


I 


iiisToracAL. 


271 


ait.     It 

to  the 

Queen 

Lady  of 

Sacred 

but  All 

r  devo- 

'.  whole 


ilr 


ciety  of 
e  Holy 
iling-  to 
t  we  do 
harlty  ; 
ves  the 
Y  them- 
\'C  that 
lucnce, 
on  for 
suffer- 
by  the 
sd  and 
cd  the 
belief 
no,    of 
J  favor 
place 
ave  to 
neans.' 
ra3-ers 
let  us 
rayers 
^et  us 
thing's 
iVc 
[events 
:oursc 


o 


or  sacccssion  can  alter  or  chang-e  the  effects  of  that  will. 
He  looks  upon  what  is  to  rome  as  if  it  were  present  or  al- 
ready past.  In  consideration  of  the  prayers,  the  suffrages, 
and  the  good  works  of  tiie  Church,  which  He  foresees, 
He  grants  proportionate  graces,  even  as  if  those  prayers 

and  good  works  had  been  already  offered  up 

Amongst  the  Helpers  of  the  Holy  Souls  several  have 
made  great  sacrifices  to  God  in  order  to  obtain  mercy 
for  souls  long  ago  called  away  from  this  world.  We  can 
all  imitate  their  example.  *  Oh !  if  it  was  not  too  late!' 
is  the  cry  of  many  a  heart  tortured  by  anxiety  for  the 
fate  of  some  loved  one  who  has  died  apparently  out  of 
the  Church,  or  not  in  a  state  of  grace.  We  answer,  '  It 
is  never  too  late,  l^ray  ;  act ;  suffer.  The  Lord  fores  a. 
your  efforts.  The  Lord  knew  what  was  to  come,  <  iid 
may  have  given  to  that  soul  at  its  last  hour  some  e\ti;  or- 
dinary graces,  which  snatched  it  from  destruction,  and 
placed  it  in  safety  where  your  love  may  still  reach  it, 
your  prayers  relieve,  your  sacrifices  avail.'  " 

I  could  not  resist  closing  this  letter  with  these  sen- 
tences,  which  have  raised  the  hopes  and  stimulated  the 
courage  of  many  mourners.  I  only  wish  this  imperfect 
sketch  of  the  Order  of  Helpers  of  the  Holy  Souls,  and 
of  the  nature  of  their  work,  might  prove  a  first  though 
feeble  ste})  towa'ds  the  introduction  amongst  us  at  some 
future  day  of  a  Msterhood  which,  in  the  vvords  used  on 
his  death-bed  by  Father  Faber,  the  great  advocate 
amongst  us  of  devotion  to  the  Holy  Souls  in  Purgatory, 
**  procures  such  immense  glory  to  God." 


1 ' 


if 


l« 


I 


i 


I  ■ 


I 


2/2 


rURGATORY. 


THE  MASS  IN  RELATION  TO  THE  DEAD. 


OlJRir.N 


1 


The  Mass  of  Requiem  is  one  celebrated  in  behalf  of 
the  dead.  .  .  .  If  the  body  of  the  deceased  be  present 
during  its  celebration,  it  enjoys  privileges  thit  it  other- 
wise would  not,  for  it  cannot  be  celebrated  unless  within 
certain  restrictions.  Masses  of  this  kind  are  accustomed 
to  be  said  in  memor}'  of  the  departed  faithful,  first,  when 
the  person  dies — or,  as  the  Latin  phrase  has  it,  dies  obittis 
sen  depositionis,  which  means  any  day  that  intervenes  from 
the  day  of  one's  demise  to  his  burial ;  secondly,  on  the 
third  day  after  death,  in  memory  of  Our  Divine  Lord's 
resurrection  after  three  days'  interval;  tJm'dly,  on  the 
seventh  day,  in  memory  of  the  mourning  of  the  Israelites 
seven  days  for  Joseph  (Gen.  i.  lo);  fourthly,  on  the  thir- 
tieth day,  in  memory  of  Moses  and  Aaron,  vv^hom  the 
Israelites  lamented  this  length  of  time  i^Nunib.  xx. ;  Dcut. 
xxxiv.) ;  and,  finally,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  or  on  the  an- 
niversary day  itself  (Gavant.,  Thcsaur.  Rit.  62).  This 
custom  also  prevails  with  the  Orientals. 

During  the  early  days  it  was  entireh^  at  the  discretion 
of  every  priest  whether  he  said  daily  a  plurality  of  Masses 
or  not  (Gavant.,  Thcsaur.  Rit.  p.  19).  It  was  quite  usual 
to  say  two  Masses,  one  of  the  occurring  feast,  the  otlier 
for  the  benefit  of  the  faithfid  departed.  This  practice, 
however,  kept  gradually  falling  into  desuetude  until  the 
time  of  Pope  Alexander  II.  (A.  D.  1061-1073),  when  that 
pontiff  decreed  that  no  priest  should  say  more  than  one 
JNIass  on  the  same  day. 

-X-  -X-  vi-  ■«■  *  *  * 

Throughout  the  kingdom  of  Aragon,  in  Spain  (includ- 
ing Aragon,  Valenlia,  and  Catalonia),  also  in  the  kingdom 
of  Major<  a  (a  dependency  of  Aragon),  it  is  allowed  each 

''Rev.  John  O'Oiicn,  A.M.,  Prof,  of  S-icred  Lituiffv  at  Mt.  St.  ."^ifniy's, 
Emniittsbiir^.  ''  History  i.f  the  Mass  and  its  (.,cremonU.s  in  the  Eastern  and 
VVesteiU  Churches." 


V 


HISTORICAL. 


273 


2half  of 
present 
t  other- 
5  within 
istomed 
■/,  when 
'S  obitiis 
ics  from 
on  the 
Lord's 
on  the 
raelites 
le  thir- 
om  the 
;  Dciit. 
the  an- 
This 

:retion 
Masses 
t  usual 
other 
actice, 
til  the 
11  that 
an  one 

ucUul- 
ij;"doui 
i  each 

army's, 
crn  and 


t 


secular  priest  to  say  two  Masses  on  the  2d  of  November, 
the  Commemoration  of  all  the  Faithful  Departed,  and 
each  regular  priest  three  Masses.  This  privilege  is  also 
enjoyed  by  the  Dominicans  of  the  Monastery  of  St.  James 
at  Pampeluna  (Benedict  XIV.,  Dc  Sacrif.  lilissal  Roi:uv,  ex. 
Congr.  dc  Prof.  Fidi.',  an.  1859  cditio,  p.  139).  This  grant, 
it  is  said,  was  first  made  cither  by  Pope  Julius  or  Pope 
Paul  III.,  and  though  often  asked  for  afterwards  by  per- 
sons of  note,  was  never  granted  to  any  other  country,  or 
to  any  place  in  Spain  except  those  mentioned.  For  want 
of  any  very  recent  information  upon  the  subject,  I  am  un- 
able to  say  how  far  the  privilege  extends  at  the  present 
day.  A  movement  is  on  foot,  however,  to  petition  the 
Holy  See  for  an  extension  of  th's  privilege  to  tlie  Univer- 
sal Church,  in  order  that  as  1  aid  as  possible  may  be 
given  to  the  suffering  souls  in  Purgatory. 

*  4fr  *  *  -X-  %  -:f 

In  case  or  "a  death  occurring  (amongst  the  Armenians) 
Mass  is  never  omitted.  The  Armenians  say  one  on  the 
day  of  burial  and  one  on  the  seventh,  fifteenth,  and  for- 
tieth after  death  ;  also  one  on  the  anniversary  day.  This 
holy  practice  of  praying  for  the  dead  and  saying  Mass  in 
their  behalf  is  very  common  throughout  the  entire  East, 
with  schismatics  as  well  as  Catholics. 

^  'k  -I!  -k  H:  •!!  -k 

As  late  as  the  sixteenth  century,  a  very  singular  custom 
prevailed  in  England — viz. :  that  of  presenting  at  the  altar 
during  a  Mass  of  Requiem  all  the  armor  and  military 
equipments  of  deceased  knights  and  noblemen,  as  well  as 
their  chargers.  Dr.  Kock  (Church  of  our  Fathers,  II.  507), 
tells  us  that  as  many  as  eight  horses,  fully  caparisoned, 
used  to  be  brought  into  the  church  for  this  purpose  at 
the  burial  of  some  of  the  higher  nobility.  At  the  funeral 
of  Henr)-  VII.,  in  Westminster  Abbey,  after  the  royal 
arms  had  first  been  presented  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  we 
are  told  tliat  .Sir  Edward  Howard  rode  into  Church  upon 
'■'■  a  goodlie  courser,"  with  the  arms  of  England  em- 
broidered upon  his  trappings,  and  delivered  him  to  the 


if» 


i  '■■ 


-t^im 


*ww 


r 


I 


274 


rURGATORY. 


abbots  of  tlie  monastery  iibid).  Somcthin<:^  similar  hap- 
pened at  the  Mass  of  Requiem  for  the  repose  of  the  soul 
of  Lord  Bray  in  A.  D.  1557,  and  at  that  celebrated  for 
Prince  Arthur,  son  of  Henry  VII.  {ibid). 

■k  %  «•  -w  %  ^k  * 

As  the  priest  begins  to  recite  the  memento  for  the 
dead,  he  moves  his  hands  slowly  before  his  face,  so  as  to 
have  them  united  at  the  words  ''  in  somno  pads''  This 
gentle  motion  of  the  hands  is  aptly  suggestive  here  of  the 
slow,  lingering  motion  of  a  soul  preparing  to  leave  the 
body,  and  the  final  union  of  the  hands  forcibly  recalls  to 
mind  the  laying  down  of  the  body  in  its  quiet  slumber  in 
the  earth.  As  this  prayer  is  very  beautiful,  we  transcribe 
it  in  full.  It  is  thus  worded  :  **  Remember,  also,  O  Lord  ! 
Thy  servants,  male  and  female,  who  have  gone  before  us 
with  the  sign  of  faith  and  sleep  in  the  sleep  of  peace,  N. 
N.  ;  to  Ihem,  O  Lord!  and  to  all  v/ho  rest  in  Christ,  we 
beseech  Thee  to  grant  a  place  of  refreshment,  light,  and 
peace  ;  through  the  same  Christ  our  Lord.  Arrien."  At 
the  letters  N.  N.  the  names  of  the  particular  persons  to 
be  prayed  for  among  the  departed  were  read  out  from 
the  diptychs  in  ancient  times.  When  the  priest  comes  to 
them  now  he  does  not  stop,  but  pauses  awhile  at  " /// 
souiiij pads'"  to  make  his  private  memento  of  those  whom 
i.c  wishes  to  pray  for  in  particular,  in  which  he  is  to  be 
guided  by  the  same  rules  that  directed  him  in  making  his 
memento  for  the  living,  only  that  here  he  cannot  pra}'  for 
the  conversion  of  any  one,  as  he  could  there,  for  this  solely 
relates  to  the  dead  who  are  detained  in  Purgatory.  Should 
the  Holy  Sacrifice  be  offered  for  any  soul  among  the  de- 
parted which  could  not  be  benefited  by  it,  either  because 
of  the  loss  of  its  eternal  salvation  or  its  attainment  of  the 
everlasting  joys  of  heaven,  theologians  commonly  teach 
that  in  that  case  the  fruit  of  the  Mass  would  enter  the 
treasury  of  the  Chu'xh,  and  be  applied  afterwards  in 
such  indulgences  and  the  like  as  Almighty  God  might 
suggest  to  the  dispensers  of  his  gift  (Suarcz,  Disp.^  xxxviii. 
sec.  8). 


f 


HISTORICAL. 


275 


Wc  beg  to  direct  particular  attention  here  to  the  ex- 
pression "sleep  of  peace."  That  harsh  word  death,  which 
we  now  use,  was  seldom  or  never  heard  amons^  the  early 
Christians  when  talkin<^  of  their  dei)arted  brethren. 
Death  to  them  was  nothinj^  else  but  a  sleep  until  the 
great  day  of  resurrection,  when  all  would  rise  up  arj^ain 
at  the  sound  of  the  angel's  trumpet ;  and  this  bright  idea 
animated  their  minds  and  enlivened  all  their  hopes  when 
conversing  with  their  absent  friends  in  prayer.  So,  too, 
with  the  place  of  interment ;  it  was  not  called  by  that 
hard  name  that  distinguishes  it  too  often  now,  viz.,  the 
grai'c-yard,  but  was  called  by  the  milder  term  of  ccnictcrVy 
which,  from  its  Greek  derivation,  means  a  dormitory,  or 
sleeping-place.  Nor  was  the  word  bury  cmploved  to 
signify  the  consigning  the  body  to  the  earth.  No,  this 
sounded  too  profane  in  the  cars  of  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians ;  they  rather  chose  the  word  depose,  as  suggestive  of 
the  treasure  that  was  put  away  until  it  pleased  God  to 
turn  it  to  better  use  on  the  final  reckoning  day.  The  old 
Teutonic  expression  for  cemetery  was,  to  say  the  least  of 
it,  very  beautiful.  The  blessed  place  was  called  in  this 
tongue  gottcs-ackcr — that  is,  God's  field — for  the  reason 
that  the  dead  were,  so  to  speak,  the  seed  sown  in  the 
ground  from  which  would  spring  the  harvest  reaped  on 
the  day  of  general  resurrection  in  the  shape  of  glorified 
bodies.  According  to  this  beautitul  notion,  the  stone 
which  told  who  the  departed  person  was  that  lay  at  rest 
beneath,  was  likened  to  the  label  that  was  hung  upon  a 
post  by  the  farmer  or  gardener  to  tell  the  passer-by  tlic 
name  of  the  flower  that  was  deposited  beneath.  This 
happy  application  of  the  word  sleep  to  death  runs  also 
through  Holy  Scripture,  where  we  frequently  find  such 
expressions  as  "He  slept  with  his  fathers,"  "  ]  have  slept 
and  1  am  refreshed,"  applied  from  the  third  Psalm  to  our 
Divine  Lord's  time  in  the  sepulchre ;  the  "  sleep  of  peace," 
"  he  was  gathered  to  his  fathers,"  etc. 

The  prayers  of  the  Orientals  for  the  faithful  departed 
are  singularly  touching.     In  the  Co^^ic  Liturgy  of  St. 


J 


i 


'i^ 


' 


•^rmmi^^m'm  ■  w.  tm. 


TT^""''^"'— 


mhamM 


276 


rURGATORY. 


Basil  the  memento  is  worded  thus:  "In  like  manner,  () 
Lord !  remember  also  all  those  who  have  already  fallen 
asleej)  in  the  priesthood  and  amidst  the  laity  ;  vouchsafe 
to  give  rest  to  their  souls  in  the  bosoms  of  our  holy 
fathers,  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob;  bring  them  into  a 
place  of  greenness  by  the  waters  of  comfort,  in  the  para- 
dise of  pleasure  where  grief  and  misery  and  sighing  are 
banished,  in  the  brightness  of  the  saints."  The  Orientals 
are  very  much  attached  to  ancient  phraseology,  and 
hence  their  frequent  application  of  "  the  bosom  of  Abra- 
ham "  to  that  middle  state  of  purification  in  the  next  life 
which  we  universally  designate  by  the  name  of  Purga- 
tory. In  the  Syro-Jacobite  Liturgy  of  John  Bar  Maadan, 
part  of  the  memento  is  thus  worded :  "  Reckon  them 
among  the  number  of  Thine  elect;  cover  them  with  the 
bright  cloud  of  Thy  saints ;  set  them  with  the  lambs  on 
Thy  right  hand,  and  bring  them  into  Thy  habitation." 
The  following  extract  is  taken  from  the  Liturgy  of  St. 
Chrysostom,  which,  as  we  have  said  already,  all  the 
Catholic  and  schismatic  Greeks  of  the  East  follow : 
"  Remember  all  those  that  are  departed  in  the  hope  of 
the  resurrection  to  eternal  life,  and  give  them  rest  where 
the  light  of  Thy  countenance  shines  upon  them."  But  of 
all  the  Orientals,  the  place  of  honor  in  this  respect  must 
be  yielded  to  the  Nestorians  ;  for,  heretics  as  they  are, 
too  much  praise  cannot  be  given  them  ibr  the  singular 
reverence  they  show  towards  their  departed  brethren. 
From  a  work  of  theirs  called  the  **  Sinhados,"  which  Badger 
quotes  in  his  "  Nestorians  and  their  Rituals,"  we  take  the 
following  extract :  "  The  service  of  third  day  of  the  dead  is 
kept  up,  because  Christ  rose  on  the  third  day.  On  the 
ninth  day,  also,  there  should  be  a  commemoration,  and 
again  on  the  thirtieth  day,  after  the  example  of  the  Old 
Testament,  since  the  people  mourned  for  Moses  that 
length  of  time.  A  year  after,  also,  there  should  be  a  par- 
ticular commemoration  of  the  dead,  and  some  of  the  prop 
erty  of  the  deceased  should  be  given  to  the  poor  in  re- 
membrance of  him.     We  say  this  of  believers;  for,  as  to 


H 


i 


i      i 


HISTORICAL. 


277 


! 


i 


unbelievers,  should  all  tht!;  wealth  of  the  world  be  given 
to  the  poor  in  their  behall,  it  would  profit  them  notiiiii|^." 
The  Armenians  call  Purgatory  by  the  name  Gdyaii — 
that  is,  a  mansion.  The  Chaldeans  style  it  Matlhar,  the 
exact  equivalent  of  our  term.  I3y  some  of  the  other  Ori- 
ental Churches  it  is  called  Kavarnfi,  or  place  of  penance ; 
and  Makraran,  a  place  of  purification  (Smith  and  Dwignt, 
[.  }).  169). 

We  could  multiply  examples  at  pleasure  to  prove  that 
tliere  is  no  church  in  the  Hast  to  which  the  name  of 
Christian  can  be  given  that  does  not  look  upon  praying 
for  the  faithful  departed,  and  offering  the  Holy  Mass  for 
the  repose  of  their  souls,  as  a  sacred  and  solemn  obliga- 
tion. Protestants  who  would  fain  believe  otherwise,  and 
who  not  unfrequcntly  record  differently  in  their  writings 
about  the  Oriental  Christians,  can  verify  our  statements 
by  referring  to  any  Eastern  Liturgy  and  examining  for 
themselves.  We  conclude  our  remarks  on  this  head  by 
a  strong  argument  in  point  from  a  very  unbiased  Angli- 
can minister — the  Rev.  Dr.  John  Mason  Neale.  Speak- 
ing of  prayers  for  the  dead  in  his  work  entitled  "  A  His- 
tory of  the  Holy  Eastern  Church,"  general  introduction, 
Vol.  I.  p.  509,  this  candid-speaking  man  uses  the  follow- 
ing language :  "  I  am  not  now  going  to  prove,  what 
nothing  but  the  blindest  prejudice  can  deny,  that  the 
Church,  east,  west,  and  south,  has,  with  one  consentient 
and  universal  voice,  even  from  Apostolic  times,  prayed 
in  the  Holy  Eucharist  for  the  departed  faithful." 


i 


Ml 


2/8  rUUGATORY. 


FUNERAL   ORATION   ON   DANIEL   O'CONNELL. 

RliV.  THOMAS   IlIRKi;,  O.   1'. 

["Wisdom  cnnductcd  tlic  just  man  llirou^li  tlic  ri^Iit  ways,  ami  showed 
him  the  kingdom  of  God,  made  iiitn  honorable  in  liis  labors,  and  aecom- 
plished  his  works.  She  kept  liini  sale  from  his  enemies,  and  gave  liim  a 
strong  conilict  that  he  might  overcome  ;  and  in  bondage  she  left  him  not 
till  she  brought  him  the  sceptre  of  the  kingdo:  \  and  power  against  those 
that  oppressed  him,  and  gave  him  everlasting  glory." — Wisdom  x.'J 

Nor  was  Ireland  for<^ottcn  in  the  clesi<^ns  of  Ciod. 
Centuries  oi  patient  endurance  brouo^ht  at  lcn<^th  the 
dawn  of  a  better  day.  God's  hour  came,  and  it  brought 
with  it  Ireland's  greatest  son,  Daniel  O'Connell.  We 
surround  his  grave  to-day  to  pay  him  a  last  tribute  ot 
love,  to  speak  words  of  praise,  of  suffrage,  and  prayer. 
For  two  and  tv/enty  years  has  he  silently  slept  in  the 
midst  of  us.  His  generation  is  passing  away,  and  the 
light  of  history  already  dawns  upon  his  grave,  and  she 
speaks  his  name  with  cold,  unimpassioned  voice.  In 
this  age  of  ours  a  few  years  are  as  a  century  of  times 
gone  by.  Great  changes  and  startling  events  follow 
each  other  in  such  quick  succession  that  the  greatest 
names  are  forgotten  almost  as  soon  as  those  who  bore 
them  disappear,  and  the  world  itself  is  surprised  to  find 
how  short-lived  is  the  fame  which  promised  to  be  immor- 
tal. The  Church  alone  is  the  true  shrine  of  immor- 
tality— the  temple  of  fame  which  pcrisheth  not;  and  that 
man  only  whose  name  and  memory  is  preserved  in  her 
sanctuaries  receives  on  this  earth  a  reflection  of  that 
glory  which  is  eternal  in  heaven.  But  before  the  Church 
will  crown  any  one  of  her  children,  she  carefully  exam- 
ines his  claims  to  the  immortality  of  her  gratitude  and 
praise.  She  asks,  ''What  has  he  done  for  God  and  for 
man?"  This  great  question  am  I  come  here  to  answer 
to-day  for  him  wdiose  tongue,  once  so  eloquent,  is  now 

'  From  the  funeral  oration  preached  at  Glassnevin  (^emctcry,  in  May, 
iS6q,  on  the  occasion  of  the  removal  of  the  remains  of  the  Liberator  to  their 
final  resting  place. 


i 


HISTORICAL. 


2/9 


Stilled  in  the  silence  of  the  {^rave,  nnd  over  whose  tonii) 
a  sj^rateful  country  has  raised  a  monument  of  its  ancient 
faitii  and  a  record  of  its  past  j^lorics ;  and  I  claim  for  him 
(lie  need  of  onr  u^ratitude  and  love,  in  that  he  was  a  man 
of  faith,  whom  wisdom  j^uided  in  "the  ri*^ht  ways,"  who 
loved  and  souij^ht  "  the  kinj^^dom  of  God,''  who  was 
*'  most  honorable  in  his  labors,"  and  who  accomplished 
his  "  f^reat  works;"  the  liberator  of  his  race,  the  father 
of  his  people,  the  conqueror  in  "  the  undehled  conllict  "  of 

principle,  truth  and  justice 

....  Before  him  stretched,  fidl  and  broad,  the  two 
ways  of  life,  and  he  must  choose  between  them  :  the  way 
which  led  to  all  that  the  world  prized — wealth,  power, 
distinction,  title,  glory,  and  fame ;  the  way  of  genius,  the 
noble  rivalry  of  intellect,  the  association  with  all  that  was 
most  refined  and  refining — the  way  which  led  up  to  the 
council  chambers  of  the  nation,  to  all  places  of  jurisdic- 
tion and  of  honor,  to  the  temples  wherein  were  enshrined 
historic  names  and  glorious  memories,  to  a  share  in  all 

blessings  of  pri\'ilcge  and  freedom Before  him 

opened  another  way.  No  gleam  of  sunshine  illumined 
this  way  ;  it  was  wet  with  tears — it  was  overshadowed 
by  misfortune — it  zuas  pointed  out  to  the  young  traveller  of 
life  by  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  he  who  entered  it  was  bid- 
den to  leave  all  hope  behind  him,  for  it  led  through  the 
valley  of  humiliation,  into  the  heart  of  a  fallen  race,  and 
an  enslaved  and  afflicted  people.  I  claim  for  O'Connell 
the  glory  of  having  chosen  this  latter  path,  and  this  claim 
no  man  can  gainsay,  for  it  is  the  argument  of  the  Apostle 
in  favor  of  the  great  lawgiver  of  old — "By  faith  Moses 
denied  himself  to  be  the  son  of  Pharoah's  daughter." 
.  .  .  .  Into  this  way  was  he  led  by  his  love  for  his  re- 
ligion and  his  country.  He  firmly  believed  in  that  religion 
in  which  he  was  born.  He  had  that  faith  which  is  com- 
mon to  all  Catholics,  and  which  is  not  merely  a  strong 
opinion  nor  even  a  conviction,  but  an  absolute  and  most 
certain  knowledge  that  the  Catholic  Church  is  the  one 
and  the  only  true  messenger  and  witness  of  God  upon 


■ 


iHli 


I  III 


1. 1 1 


li 


•^. 


^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


50     "^^        'iilll^B 


1^ 


us 

u 
u 


2.2 


1.4    il.6 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


€S 


,\ 


C\ 


V 


\ 


^ 


V 


6^ 


\" 


// 


■^ 


s 


V 


\\ 


1 


sssssimmammmit 


%.: 


I 


2  So 


PURGATORY. 


earth ;  and  that  to  belong  to  her  communion  and  to 
possess  her  faith  is  the  first  and  greatest  of  all  endow- 
ments and  privileges,  before  which  everything  else  sinks 

into  absolute  nothing He  was  Irish  of  the  Irish 

and  Catholic  of  the  Catholic.  His  love  for  religion  and 
country  was  as  the  breath  of  his  nostrils,  the  blood  of  his 
veins,  and  when  he  brought  to  the  service  of  both  the 
strength  of  his  faith  and  the  power  of  his  genius,  with  the 
instinct  of  a  true  Irishman,  his  first  thought  was  to  lift  up 
the  nation  by  striking  the  chains  off  the  National  Church. 
And  here  again,  two  ways  opened  before  him.  One  was 
a  way  of  danger  and  of  blood,  and  the  history  of  his 
country  told  him  that  it  ever  ended  in  defeat  and  in  great 
•;vil.  .  .  .  He  saw  that  the  effort  to  walk  in  it  had  swept 
away  the  last  vestige  of  Ireland's  national  legislature  and 
independence.  But  another  path  was  still  open  to  him, 
and  wisdom  pointed  it  out  as  "  the  right  way."  Another 
battle-field  lay  before  him  on  which  he  could  *'  fight  the 
good  fight"  and  vindicate  all  the  rights  of  his  religion  and 
of  his  country.  The  armory  was  furnished  by  the  in- 
spired Apostle  when  he  said  :....*'  Having  your 
loins  girt  about  with  truth,  and  having  on  the  breast- 
plate of  justice,  and  your  feet  shod  with  the  preparation 
of  the  Gospel  of  Peace,  in  all  things  taking  the  shield  of 

faith And  take  unto  you  the  sword  of  the 

Spirit,  which  is  the  Word."  O'Connell  knew  well  that 
such  weapons  in  such  a  hand  as  his  were  irresistible — 
that  girt  around  with  the  truth  and  justice  of  his  cause, 
he  was  clad  in  the  armor  of  the  Eternal  God,  that  with 
words  of  peace  and  order  on  his  lips,  with  the  strong 
shield  of  faith  before  him  and  the  sword  of  eloquent 
speech  in  his  hand,  with  the  war-cry  of  obedience,  prin- 
ciple, and  law,  no  power  on  earth  could  resist  him.  for  it  is 
the  battle  of  God,  and  nothing  can  resist  the  Most  High. 


* 


¥i 


■A 


^- 


.  .  .  .  He  who  was  the  Church's  liberator  and 
most  true  son,  was  also  the  first  of  Ireland's  states- 
men and  patriots.     Our  people  remember  well,  as  their 


A 


V 


and  to 
endow- 
sC  sinks 
ic  Irish 
ion  and 
d  of  his 
3th  the 
:ith  the 
)  lift  up 
!^hiirch. 
>ne  was 
'  of  his 
in  great 
i  swept 
.ire  and 
to  him, 
Another 
^ht  the 
ion  and 
the  in- 
ig  your 
brcast- 
aration 
lield  of 

of  the 
sll  that 
^tiblc— 

cause, 
at  with 

strong 
oquent 
c,  prin- 
for  it  is 
t  High. 

0r  and 

states- 

ls  their 


f 


HISTORICAL. 


281 


future  historian  will  faithfully  record,  the  many  trials 
borne  for  them,  the  many  victories  gained  in  their 
cause,  the  great  life  devoted  to  them  by  O'Conncll. 
Lying,  however,  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  as  he  is  to-day, 
whilst  the  Church  hallows  his  grave  with  prayer  and 
sacrifice,  it  is  more  especially  as  the  Catholic  Emanci-' 
pator  of  his  people  that  we  place  a  garland  on  his  tomb. 
It  is  as  the  child  of  the  Church  that  we  honor  him,  and 
recall  with  tears  of  sorrow  our  recollections  of  the  aged 
man,  revered,  beloved,  whom  all  the  glory  of  the  world's 
admiration  and  the  nation's  love  had  never  lifted  up  in 
soul  out  of  the  holy  atmosphere  of  Christian  humility  and 
simpHcity.  Obedience  to  tlie  Church's  laws,  quick  zeal 
for  her  honor  ^nd  the  dignity  of  her  worship,  a  spirit  of 
penance  refinuig  whilst  it  expiated,  chastening  while  it 
ennobled  all  that  was  natural  in  the  man  ;  constant  and 
frequent  use  of  the  Church's  holy  sacraments  which  shed 
the  halo  of  grace  around  his  venerated  head, — these  were 
the  last  grand  lessons  which  he  left  to  his  people,  and 
thus  did  the  sun  of  his  life  set  in  the  glory  of  Christian 
holiness. 

.  .  .  .  In  the  triumph  of  Catholic  Emancipation, 
he  pointed  out  to  the  Irish  people  the  true  secret  of  their 
strength,  the  true  way  of  progress,  and  the  sure  road  to 
victory.  .  .  .  Time,  which  buries  in  utter  oblivion  so 
many  names  and  so  many  memories,  will  exalt  him  in  his 
work.  The  day  has  already  dawned  and  is  ripening  into 
its  perfect  noon,  when  Irishmen  of  every  creed  will  re- 
member O'Connell,  and  celebrate  him  as  the  common 
friend,  and  the  greatest  benefactor  of  their  country. 
What  man  is  there,  even  of  those  whom  our  age  has  called 
great,  whose  name,  so  many  years  after  his  death,  could 
summon  so  many  loving  hearts  around  his  tomb?  We, 
to-day,  arc  the  representatives  not  only  of  a  nation  but 
of  a  race.  .  .  .  Where  is  the  land  that  has  not  seen 
the  face  of  our  people  and  heard  their  voice?  And  wher- 
ever, even  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  an  Irishman  is  found 
to-day,  his  spirit  and  his  sympathy  arc  here.   The  millions 


i 
I 


I 


10 


1 
11 


1" 


.^tt 


aaa 


282 


rURGATORY. 


of  America  arc  with  us— the  Irish  Catholic  soldier  on 
India's  plains  is  present  amongst  us  by  the  magic  of  love 
— the  Irish  sailor  standing  by  the  wheel  this  moment  in 
far-off  silent  seas,  where  it  is  night,  and  the  Southern  stars 
are  shining,  joins  his  prayer  with  ours,  and  recalls  the 
glorious  image  and  the  venerated  name  of  O'Connell. 
.  .  .  He  is  gone,  but  his  fame  shall  live  forever  on  the 
earth,  as  a  lover  of  God  and  of  His  people.  Adversities, 
political  and  religious,  he  had  many,  and  like  a 

"  Tower  of  strength 
Which  stood  full  square  to  all  the  winds  that  blow," 

the  Hercules  of  justice  and  of  liberty  stood  up  against 
them.  Time,  which  touches  all  things  with  mellowing 
hand,  has  softened  the  recollections  of  past  contests,  and 
they  who  once  looked  upon  him  as  a  foe,  now  only  re- 
member the  glory  of  the  fight,  and  the  mighty  genius  of 
him  who  stood  forth  the  representative  man  of  his  race, 
and  the  champion  of  his  people.  They  acknowledge  his 
greatness,  and  they  join  hands  with  us  to  weave  the  gar- 
land of  his  fame. 

But  far  other,  higher  and  holier  are  the  feelings  of  Irish 
Catholics  all  the  world  over  to-day.  They  recognize  in 
the  dust  which  we  are  assembled  to  honor,  the  powerful 
arm  which  promoted  them,  the  eloquent  tongue  which 
proclaimed  their  rights  and  asserted  their  freedom,  the 
strong  hand  which,  like  that  of  the  Maccabees  of  old,  first 
struck  off  their  chains  and  then  built  up  their  holy  altars. 
They,  mingling  the  supplication  of  prayer  and  the  grati- 
tude of  suffrage  with  their  tears,  recall — oh !  with  how 
much  love— the  memory  of  him  who  was  a  Joseph  to 
Israel — their  tower  of  strength,  their  buckler,  and  their 
shield — who  shed  around  their  homes,  their  altars,  and 
their  graves  the  sacred  light  of  religious  liberty,  and  the 
glory  of  unfettered  worship.  "  His  praise  is  in  the 
Church,"  and  this  is  the  pledge  of  the  immortality  of  his 
glory.  '*  A  people's  voice  "  may  be  ''  the  proof  and  echo 
of  all  human  fame,"  but  the  voice  of  the  undying  Church, 


^ 


4 


i 


"  ii  * 


HISTORICAL. 


283 


dicr  on 
of  love 
mcnt  in 
rn  stars 
;alls  the 
^onncU. 
on  the 
ersitics, 


agamst 
llowing- 
its,  and 
)nly  rc- 
mius  of 
is  race, 
dgc  his 
he  gar- 

of  Irish 
;^nize  in 
3\verful 

which 
3m,  the 
Id,  first 

altars. 
2  grati- 
:h  how 
eph  to 
d  their 
rs,  and 
md  the 
in  the 
■  of  his 
d  echo 
Church, 


h 


is  the  echo  of  "everlasting  glory,"  and,  when  those  who 
surround  his  grave  to-day  shall  have  j)assed  away,  all 
future  generations  of  Irislimcn  to  the  end  of  time  will  be 
reminded  of  his  name  and  glory. 


THE  INDULGENCE   OF  PORTIUNCUIA. 

TowARi:)S  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century,  four  pil- 
grims from  Palestine  came  to  settle  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Assisi,  and  built  a  chapel  there.  Nearly  two  cen- 
turies after,  this  little  chai)cl  passed  into  the  hands  of 
the  monks  of  St.  Benedict,  who  owned  some  lots,  ov  por- 
tions of  land,  in  the  vicinity,  whence  came  the  name  ot 
Portmucula,  given  first  to  those  little  plots  of  ground, 
and  afterwards  to  the  chapel  itself.  St.  Bonaventure 
says  that,  later  still,  it  was  called  "  Our  Lady  of  ^Angels," 
because  the  heavenly  spirits  frequently  appeared  there. 

St.  Francis,  at  the  oulset  of  his  penitential  life,  going 
one  day  through  the  fields  about  Assisi,  heard  a  voice 
which  said  to  him  :  "  Go,  repair  my  house  !  "  He  thought 
the  Lord  demanded  of  him  to  repair  the  sanctuaries  in 
which  lie  was  worshipped,  and,  amongst  others,  the 
Church  of  St.  Damian,  a  little  way  from  Assisi,  which 
was  falling  to  decay. 

He  went  to  work,  therefore,  begging  in  the  streets  of 
Assisi,  and  crying  out :  "  He  who  giveth  me  a  stone  shall 
have  one  blessing — he  who  giveth  me  two,  shall  have 
two." 

Meanwhile,  Francis  often  bent  his  steps  towards  the 
little  chapel  of  the  Portiuncula,  built  about  half  a  league 
from  Assisi,  in  a  fertile  valley,  in  the  midst  of  a  profound 
solitude.  The  place  had  great  charms  for  him,  and  he 
resolved  to  take  up  his  abode  there,  but  as  the  little 
chapel  w\as  urgently  in  need  of  repair,  he  undertook  to 
do  it,  following,  as  he  thought,  the  orders  he  had  re- 


1 


n 


m 

!>', 


> 


1 1 1 


284 


rURGATORY. 


ccivctl  from  Heaven.  lie  made  himself  a  cell  in  the 
hollow  of  a  neii^hboring  rock,  and  there  spent  several 
years  in  great  austerities.  Some  disciples,  having  joined 
him,  inhal)ited  caverns  which  they  found  in  the  rocks 
around,  and  some  built  themselves  cells.  This  was  the 
origin  of  the  Order  of  St.  Francis.  The  Portiuncnla,  or 
Our  Lady  of  Angels,  afterwards  given  to  the  holy  peni- 
tent by  the  Benedictine  Abbot  of  Monte  Soubasio,  thus 
became  the  cradle  of  the  three  orders  founded  by  the 
Seraphic  Patriarch,  and  is  unspeakably  dear  to  every 
child  of  St.  Francis.^ 

Francis,  in  the  midst  of  his  prodigious  austerities, 
living  always  in  the  greatest  privation,  united,  neverthe- 
less, the  most  tender  compassion  for  men  and  a  marvel- 
lous love  for  poverty.  Fie  prayed  above  all,  and  with 
tears  and  groans,  for  the  conversion  of  sinners.  But  one 
night — it  was  in  October,  1221 — Francis  being  inspired 
with  a  greater  love  and  a  deeper  pity  for  men  who  were 
offending  their  God  and  Saviour,  shedding  torrents  of 
tears,  macerating  his  body,  already  attenuated  by  excess- 
ive mortifications,  hears,  all  at  once,  the  voice  of  an 
Angel  commanding  him  to  repair  to  the  chapel  of  the 
Portiuncula.  Ravished  with  joy,  he  rises  immediately, 
and  entering  with  profound  respect  into  the  chapel,  he 
falls  prostrate  on  the  ground,  to  adore  the  majesty  of 
God.  FIc  then  sees  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  appears 
to  him,  accompanied  by  His  Holy  Mother  and  a  great 
multitude  of  Angels,  and  says  to  him  :  "  Francis,  thou  and 
thy  brethren  have  a  great  zeal  for  the  salvation  of  souls ; 
indeed,  you  have  been  placed  as  a  torch  in  the  world  and 
as  the   support  of  the  Church.     Ask,  then,   whatsoever 

'  The  little  clinnel  of  the  Portiuncula  is  now  inclosed  beneath  the  dome 
of  tlic  f?re;it  basilica  of  Our  Lad3-of  Angels,  built  to  preserve  it  from  the  in- 
juries of  the  weather.  It  stands  there  still  with  its  rough,  antique  walls,  in 
all  (lie  prestige  of  its  marvellous  past.  "I  know  not  what  perfume  of  holy 
povert3',"  says  a  i)ious  author,  "exhales  from  that  venerable  chapel.  Tiic 
pavement  within  is  literally  worn  b}'  the  knees  of  the  pious  faithful,  and 
their  repeated  and  burning  kisses  have  left  their  imprint  on  its  walls." 


yJb 


^^ 


in  the 
several 

joined 

roeks 
vas  the 
Ilia,  or 
y  peni- 
o,  thus 
by  the 

every 

critics, 
verthe- 
narvel- 
d  with 
Jut  one 
ispired 
o  were 
ents  of 
cxcess- 
of  an 
of  the 
liately, 
pel,  he 
esty  of 
ppears 
great 
ou  and 
souls ; 
Id  and 
soever 


le  dome 
1  the  in- 
valls,  in 
of  holy 
1.  The 
ful,  and 


HISTORICAL. 


?Si 


thou  wilt  for  the  welfare  and  consolation  of  nations,  and 
for  My  glory." 

In  the  midst  of  the  wonders  which  ravished  liim, 
Francis  made  this  prayer  :  "  Our  most  holy  Father,  I 
beseech  Thee,  althougli  I  am  but  a  miserable  sinner,  to 
have  the  goodness  to  grant  to  men,  that  all  those  who 
shall  visit  this  Church  may  receive  a  plenary  indulgence 
of  all  their  sins,  after  having  confessed  to  a  priest;  and  I 
beseech  the  Blessed  Virgin,  Thy  Mother,  the  advocate  of 
mankind,  to  intercede,  that  1  may  obtain  this  favor." 

The  merciful  Virgin  interceded,  and  Our  Lord  said  to 
Fiancis :  "What  thou  dost  ask  is  great,  nevertheless 
thou  shalt  receive  still  greater  favors.  I  grant  it  to  thee, 
but  I  v.ill  that  it  be  ratified  on  earth  by  him  to  whom  I 
have  given  the  power  of  binding  and  loosening." 

The  companions  of  the  Saint  overheard  this  colloquy 
between  Our  Lord  and  St.  Francis ;  they  beheld  numer- 
ous troops  of  Angels,  and  a  great  light  that  filled  the 
Church,  but  a  respectful  fear  prevented  them  from  ap- 
proaching. 

Next  day  Francis  set  out,  accompanied  by  one  of  his 
brethren,  and  repaired  to  Perugia,  where  Pope  Hono- 
rius  in.  then  was.  The  Saint,  introduced  to  the  Pon- 
tiff, repeated  the  order  he  had  received  from  Our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  Mimself,  and  conjured  him  not  to  refuse 
what  the  vSon  of  God  had  been  pleased  to  grant  him. 

*'  But,"  said  the  Sovereign  Pontiff,  "  thou  askest  of  me 
something  very  great,  and  the  Roman  Court  is  not  wont 
to  grant  such  an  indulgence."  "  ^lost  Holy  Father,"  re- 
plied Francis,  "  I  ask  it  not  of  myself;  it  is  Jesus  Christ 
who  scndeth  me.  I  come  on  Plis  behalf."  Wherefore  the 
Pope  said  publicly  three  times  :  "  /  zvill  that  thou  Jiavc  it!' 

The  Cardinals  made  several  objections ;  but  Ilonorius, 
at  length  convinced  of  the  will  of  God,  granted  most  lib- 
erally, most  gratuitously,  and  in  perpetuity,  this  indul- 
gence solicited  so  earnestly,  yet  with  so  much  humility, 
but  only  diiriiio;  one  natural  day,  from  evening  till  evening^  in- 
cluding the  night,  till  sunset  on  the  folio 


n 


I      A" 


286 


PURGATORY. 


At  these  words,  Francis  humbly  bowed  his  head.  As 
he  wasi^oiii*;'  away,  (he  Pope  deinanded  of  hiin  :  "  Whither 
goest  thou,  simple  man?  What  assurance  liast  thou  ot 
that  which  ihou  liast  obtained?"  "  Holy  Father,"  he  re- 
plied, "thy  word  is  sullicient  for  me;  if  this  Indulgence 
be  the  work  of  God,  He  Himself  will  make  it  manifest. 
Let  jesus  Christ,  His  holy  Mother  and  the  Angels  be  in 
that  rei^ard,  notary,  paper  and  witness ;  1  ask  no  other 
authentic  act."  wSuch  was  the  effect  of  the  great  con- 
fidence he  felt  in  the  truth  of  the  apparition. 

The  Indulg-ence  of  the  Fortiuncula  had  been  two  years 
granted,  and  still  the  day  when  the  faithful  migb.t  gain  it 
was  not  hxed.  Francis  waited  till  Jesus  Christ,  the  hrst 
Author  of  a  grace  so  precious,  should  determine  it. 

Meanwhile,  one  night,  when  Francis  was  at  prayer  in 
his  cell,  the  tempter  suggested  to  him  to  diminish  his  pen- 
ances :  feeling  the  malice  of  the  demon,  he  goes  into  the 
woods,  and  rolls  himself  amongst  briers  and  thorns  until 
he  is  covered  with  blood.  A  ixi*eat  liij-ht  shines  around 
him,  he  sees  a  quantity  of  Vvhite  and  red  roses  all  about, 
although  it  is  the  month  of  Januar}^,  in  a  very  severe 
winter.  God  had  changed  the  thorny  shrubs  into  magnifi- 
cent rose-bushes,  which  have  ever  since  remained  green 
and  v»ithout  thorns,  and  covered  with  red  and  white 
roses.'  Angels,  wdio  appeared  then  in  great  numbers, 
said  to  him  :  "  Francis,  hasten  to  the  church  ;  Jesus  is  there 
with  His  holy  Mother."  At  the  same  moment,  he  was 
clothed  in  a  spotless  white  habit,  and  having  reached  the 
church,  after  a  profound  obeisance,  he  made  this  prayer: 
"  Our  Father,  Most  Holy  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth, 
wSavionr  of  mankind,  vouchsafe,  through  Thy  great 
mercy,  to  fix  the  day  for  the  Lidulgence  Thou  hast  had 
the  goodness  to  grant."  Our  Lord  replied  that  He  would 
have  it  to  be  from  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  the 
Apostle  St.  Peter  was  bound  with  chains  till  the  follow- 

'  "  Wc  liave  received  from  Rome,"  sha's  tlie  editor  of  (he  "  Alniannc  of  the 
Souls  ill  Purgatory,"  "some  leaves  from  these  miraculous  rose-bushes,  Wc 
will  willingly  give  some  to  the  devout  clients  of  St.  Francis." 


HISTORICAL. 


287 


kI.  As 
Vliitlicr 
:Iiou  of 
'  he  rc- 
il^cnce 
aiiifcst. 
s  bo  in 
0  otlicr 
Lit  con- 

)  years 
^aiii  it 
le  fust 

lycr  ill 
lis  pcn- 
n(()  the 
IS  until 
around 

about, 
severe 
ia<^nili- 

grccn 

white 
mbers, 
s there 
le  was 
ed  the 
rayer : 
earth, 

great 
it  had 
would 
;h  the 
3llo\v- 

c  of  I  lie 
cs.    We 


ing  (lay.  lie  then  ordered  Francis  to  present  himself  to 
his  vicar,  and  give  him  some  white  and  red  roses  in  proof 
of  the  truth  of  the  fact,  and  to  bring  some  of  his  comi)an- 
ions  wlio  might  bear  testimony  of  what  they  had  lieard. 

The  Poi)e,  convinced  by  proofs  so  inc(jntestable,  con- 
lirmed  the  Indulgence  witli  all  its  privileges. 

The  Indulgence  of  the  Portiuncula,  was  soon  known 
throughout  the  whole  world;  and  the  prodigies  wiiich 
were  seen  wrought  every  year  at  St.  Mary  of  Angels, 
excited  the  devotion  of  the  faithful  to  gain  it.  Many 
times  there  were  seen  tiiei'c  hfty  thousand,  and  even  a 
hundred  thousand  persons  assembled  together  from  all 
l)arts. 

Meanwhile,  in  order  to  facilitate  the  means  of  gaining 
an  Indulgence  so  admirable,  the  Sovereign  Pontiffs  ex- 
tended it  to  all  the  churches  of  the  three  Orders  of  St. 
Francis,  and  it  may  be  gained  by  all  the  faithful  indis- 
criminately. "Of  all  Indulgences,"  said  Bourdaloue^ 
"  that  of  the  Portiuncula  is  one  of  the  surest  and  most 
authentic  that  there  is  in  the  Church,  since  it  is  an  Indul- 
gence granted  immediately  by  Jesus  Christ,  a  privilege 
peculiar  to  itself,  and  this  Indulgence  has  spread  amongst 
all  Christian  people  with  a  marvellous  progress  of  souls, 
and  a  sensible  increase  of  piety." 

The  Indulgence  of  the  Great  Pardon  has  another  very 
special  privilege ;  it  is,  that  it  may  be  gained  /o/ics  quotics 
— that  is  to  say.  ■\\>  often  as  one  visits  a  church  to  which  it 
is  attached,  and  p,  ays  for  the  Sovereign  Pontiff;  and  this 
privilege  may  be  enjoyed  from  the  ist  of  August  about 
two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  till  sunset  on  the  following 
day. 

Pope  13oniface  VIII.  said  that  it  is  "most  pious  to  gain 
that  Indulgence  several  times  for  oneself;  for,  although 
by  the  first  gaining  of  a  plenary  Indulgence,  the  penalty 
be  remitted,  by  seeking  to  gain  it  again,  one  receives  an 
augmentation  of  grace  and  of  glory  that  crowns  all  their 
good  works."  Besides,  this  Indulgence  can  be  applied  to 
the  Souls  ill  Purgatory,  as  it  can  be  also  gained  for  the 


1 


i- 


288 


rURGATOKY. 


living  by  way  of  satisfaction,  provided  they  be  in  the  state 
of  grace. 

It  was  one  day  revealed  to  St.  Margaret  of  Cortona 
that  tlie  Souls  in  Purgatory  eagerly  look  forward  every 
year  to  the  Feast  of  Our  Lady  of  Angels,  because  it  is  a 
day  of  deliverance  for  a  great  number  of  them. 

While  s[)eakiiig  of  the  indulgence  of  the  J'ortiuncula, 
we  are  naturally  disposed  to  say  a  few  words  in  regard  to 
the  grievous  outrage  recently  committed  on  that  ])lace, 
venerated  for  more  than  six  hundred  years  by  all  Chris- 
tian nations,  and  manifestly  chosen  as  the  object  of  divine 
predilection  by  all  the  prodigies  there  wrought. 

Tiie  Italian  government  had  unlawfully,  and  in  a  sacri- 
legious manner,  possessed  itself  of  the  Convent  of  the  Por- 
tiuncula;  and  notwithstanding  the  protest  of  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Order  of  wSt.  Francis,  and  the  indignation  excited 
by  so  arbitrary  an  act  in  every  Catholic  heart,  those  iniqui- 
tous men  put  it  up  for  sale,  and  actually  sold  it  by  public 
auction.  The  Minister  General  of  the  Franciscan  Order, 
unwilling  that  this  brightest  gem  of  the  Franciscan  crown 
should  fall  into  impious  hands,  resolved  to  have  it  pur- 
chased for  him  by  a  lay  person.  But  how  w^as  this  to  be 
done,  when  he  had  no  revenue,  often  not  means  enough 
for  necessary  expenses?  a  grave  question,  truly,  for  the 
children  of  St.  F^rancis,  who  might  have  seen  themselves 
bereft  of  the  cradle  of  their  Order,  were  it  not  that,  at  the 
critical  moment,  a  man  of  a  truly  Christian  heart  came 
forward  and  advanced  the  thirty-four  thcjusand  francs, 
the  price  to  which  their  precious  relic  had  been  raised. 
Thus,  God  would  not  permit  that  so  many  memories  con- 
nected with  His  servant  Francis  should  be  effaced  from 
the  earth,  although  they  would  still  have  lived  in  the 
hearts  of  his  children,  and  the  Friars  Minors  are  still  the 
owners  and  possessors  of  that  venerable  sanctuary.' — 
Almanac  of  t lie  Soids  in  Purgatory,  1881. 

'  Nevertheless,  means  must  be  taken  to  pay  back  this  sum  so  season- 
ably advanced.  Hence  it  is,  that  at  the  request  of  the  Minister  General  ct 
the  Franciscans,  Father  Marie,  of  Brest,  has  made  u  touching  appeal  to  all 


HISTORICAL. 


289 


CATHERINE  OF    CARDONA. 

Catiierixk  of  Cardoxa  was  born  in  the  very  lush- 
est rank.  She  was  but  eii^lit  )ears  old  wlicn  she  lost  her 
father,  Jvaymoncl  of  Cardona,  who  was  deseendetl  irotn 
the  kings  of  Arai^on.  Catherine  had  aheady  made  hei- 
self  remarkable  by  her  love  of  prayer,  solitude,  and  mor- 
tilieation,  and  by  her  admirable  fidelity  to  <;race  she  had 
drawn  down  uj:)on  herself,  at  an  age  still  so  tender,  the 
signal  favor  of  Heaven. 

One  day,  whilst  abs()rl)ed  in  prayer  in  her  little  oratory, 
her  father  aj)])eared  to  her  enveloped  in  the  flames  of 
Purgatory,  and,  eonjuring  her  to  deliver  him,  he  said  to 
her:  "Daughter,  1  shall  remain  in  this  tire  until  thou 
hast  done  penanec  for  me."  With  a  heart  full  of  ct)m- 
passion,  Catherine  promised  her  father  to  satisfy  the 
divine  justice  for  him,  and  the  vision  disai)peared. 

From  that  moment  Catherine,  rising  above  the  weak- 
ness of  her  age  and  sex,  ai)[)lied  herself  to  those  amazing 
austerities  which  have  made  her  a  prodigy  of  penance. 
To  open  Heaven  to  her  father,  she  freely  sheds,  in  bloody 
scourgings,  the  first  fruits  of  that  virginal  blood  which  is 
to  flow  for  half  a  century  in  innumerable  torments.  Mag- 
nanimous child,  she  is  already  the  martyr  of  filial  piety, 
but  her  tears,  her  mortifications,  her  prayers  have  dis- 
armed the  divine  justice  and  discharged  the  paternal 
debt.  Raymond,  resplendent  with  the  glory  of  the 
blessed,  appears  again  to  his  daughter,  and  addresses  her 
in  these  words  :  '*  God  has  accepted  thy  penance,  my 
daughter,  and  I  go  to  enjoy  His  glory.  By  that  penance, 
thou  hast  become  so  pleasing  to  Jesus  Christ  that  He 
has  chosen  thee  for  His  spouse.     Continue  all  thy  life  to 

friends  of  llie  Order  and  of  iiistice,  and  has  opened  sul)scription  lists 
wherever  there  are  cliildren  of  St.  Francis,  and  there  are  cliiidren  of  St. 
Francis  all  over  the  world. 

These  lists,  with  the  names  of  the  pious  donors,  shall  be  sent  to  Assi- 
sium,  to  be  preserved  there  in  thj  very  sanctuary  of  the  I'orliuncula, — Ed.  Al. 


)' 


1 — :z. 


290 


rURGATOUV. 


immolate  thyself  as  a  victim  for  tlic  salvation  of  souls ; 
such  is  His  divine  will." 

With  these  words,  which  filled  the  heart  of  Catherine 
with  joy  unspeakable,  he  i^oes  to  Heaven  to  sin<^  the 
mercies  of  his  God,  and  to  intercede  with  Him,  in  his 
turn,  for  the  beloved  daun^hter  who  was  his  libeiator. 

Oh!  happy,  thrice  hapi)y  Catheiine!  Whilst  accom- 
j)lishin^  anact  of  filial  l)iety,  she  j^ained  the  title  of  Spouse 
of  Christ,  and  secured  for  herself  a  i)owerlul  intercessor 
in  heaven. — Almanac  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory,  1881. 

The  life  of  the  little  Catherine  was  so  admirable  that 
we  cannot  resist  the  desire  of  ^ivint^  some  extracts  from 
it  here.  It  will  be  so  much  the  more  approi)riate  that 
her  whole  life  was  consecrated  to  the  relief  of  the  souls 
in  l'ur<^atory  and  the  salvation  of  men. 

Overwhelmed  with  the  happiness  of  secinj^  herself 
chosen  for  the  spouse  of  the  God  of  Virf^ins,  Catherine 
consecrates  herself  entirely  to  Him,  and  promises  invio- 
lable fidelity  to  Him.  Rejoiced  to  belong  to  the  same 
wSpouse  as  the  Agathas  and  iVgnesses,  she  makes  a  vow  of 
perpetual  virginity,  and  exclaims  in  the  fullness  of  her 
bliss:  ''  Thou  alone,  mine  Adorable  Beloved,  Thou  alone 
shalt  reign  over  my  heart.  Thou  alone  shalt  have  dominion 
over  it  for  all  eternity  ! "  Then  Jesus  invisibly  places  on 
her  finger  the  marriage  ring,  and  endows  with  strength 
her  who  aspires  only  to  die  with  Him  on  the  cross. 

Catherine,  who,  after  the  death  of  her  father,  was  placed 
under  the  care  of  the  Princess  of  Salerno,  a  near  relative 
of  her  mother,  leads  in  the  palace  of  the  princess  a  life  no 
less  rigorous  than  that  of  the  penitents  of  the  desert ;  but 
she  \vill  have  no  other  witness  of  it  than  He  by  whom 
she  alone  desires  to  be  loved.  Condemned  by  her  rank 
to  wear  rich  clothing,  she  values  only  the  glorious  vest- 
ure of  the  soul,  which  is  grace.  The  hair-cloth  that 
macerates  her  flesh  is  her  chosen  garment.  At  that  age, 
when  people  allow  themselves  to  be  dazzled  by  the  world, 
Catherine  of  Cardona  has  trampled  it  beneath  her  feet, 
and  later  on,  becoming  entirely  free  from  the  slavery  of 


if  souls ; 

illicrinc 
■;in^  the 
I,  ill  his 
tor. 

accom- 
"  Spouse 
crccssor 
I. 

iblc  that 
jts  iVoiu 
ate  that 
he  souls 

;  herself 
atherinc 
:)s  invio- 
he  same 
a  vow  of 
s  of  her 
ou  alone 
ominiou 
flaces  oil 
strength 
ss. 

s  placed 
i-clative 
a  life  no 
2vi  ;  hut 
y  whom 
ler  rank 
tus  vcst- 
3th  that 
lat  age, 
c  world, 
ler  feet, 
I  very  of 


HISTORICAL. 


291 


the  world,  she  retires  to  the  Capuchin  Convent  at 
Naples,  and  there  prepares,  by  a  seclusion  of  twenty-live 
years,  to  give  to  the  great  ones  of  the  earth  an  cx:imi)le 
of  the  most  sublime  virtues.  Called  by  the  l^rincess  of 
Salerno  to  share  her  disfavor  with  the  king,  she  hesitates 
not  to  quit  her  dear  solitude,  and  repairs  to  Spain,  in 
1557.  Her  presence  at  Valladolid  was  an  eloquent  ser- 
mon, and  produced  the  happiest  fruits  in  souls.  The 
Princess  died  at  the  end  ol  two  years;  and  i'hili|)  II., 
knowing  the  wisdom  of  Catherine,  kept  her  at  the  Court, 
appointing  her  as  governess  to  Don  Carlos,  his  son,  and 
the  young  Don  Juan  of  Austria,  afterwards  the  hero  of 
Lepanto. 

In  1562,  Our  Lord,  in  a  vision,  says  to  Catherine  :  "  De- 
part from  this  palace  ;  retire  to  a  solitary  cave,  where 
thou  mayest  more  freely  apply  thyself  to  ])rayer  and  pen- 
ance." At  these  words,  the  soul  of  Catherine  is  inun- 
dated with'  joy,  and  she  feels  that  no  worldly  obstacle 
could  restrain  her.  She  would  fain  set  out  forthwith, 
but  her  spiritual  guides  opi^osed  her  doing  so.  Finally, 
after  many  trials,  whilst  she  was  in  prayer,  before  the 
dawn,  the  crucifix  she  wore  hanging  from  her  neck,  sud- 
denly rose  into  the  air,  and  said  :  "  Follow  me  !  "  She 
followed  it  to  a  window  on  the  ground-lloor ;  and  al- 
though it  was  fastened  with  great  iron  bars,  Catherine, 
without  knowing  how,  found  herself  in  the  street.  Trans- 
ported with  joy  at  this  new  miracle,  she  flew  to  the  place 
where  the  Mermit  of  Alcada  and  another  priest  were 
waiting  to  conduct  her  to  the  desert.  Seeing  the  heroic 
virgin,  they  blessed  Mim  who  had  thus  broken  her  chains. 
In  order  that  she  might  not  be  recognized  they  cut  off 
her  hair,  gave  her  a  hermit's  robe,  and  set  out  without 
delay.  Arriving  at  a  small  hill  about  four  leagues  from 
Roda,  Catherine  said  to  her  guides :  "  Ilere  it  is  that 
God  will  have  me  take  up  my  abode  ;  let  us  go  no  farther." 
After  a  careful  search  they  discovered  amongst  thorny 
hedges  difficult  to  get  through,  a  species  of  grotto  suf- 
ficiently deep ;  but  the  entrance  thereto  \yu3  so  narrow. 


f 


il 


JW 


'WEmmmmi»at<mmmMMJsbM,,^^ 


292 


PURGATORY. 


and  the  roof  so  low,  that  Catherine,  who  was  of  medium 
height  and  rather  full  figure,  eould  hardly  stand  upright 
in  it.  The  two  guides  of  the  holy  recluse,  taking  leave 
of  her,  Iclt  her  some  instruments  of  penance,  and  three 
loaves,  for  all  provision.  There  it  was  that  the  daughter 
of  the  Duke  of  Cardona  commenced,  in  1562,  that  admir- 
able life  which  has  been  the  wonder  of  all  succeedin";  a";es. 

Teresa,  the  seraphic  Teresa,  who  lived  at  that  time  not 
far  from  Catherine's  solitude,  cried  out  in  a  transport  of 
admiration:  "  Oh  !  how  great  must  be  the  love  that  trans- 
ported her,  since  she  thought  neither  of  food,  nor  dan- 
ger, nor  the  disgrace  her  flight  might  bring  upon  her  ; 
what  must  be  the  intoxication  of  that  holy  soul,  flying 
thus  to  the  desert,  solely  engrossed  by  the  desire  of  en- 
joying there  without  obstacle  the  presence  of  her  Spouse! 
And  how  firm  must  be  her  resolution  to  break  with  the 
world,  since  she  thus  fled  from  all  its  pleasures !  " 

St.  Teresa  adds  that  Catherine  spent  more  than  eight 
years  in  this  desert  cave,  that  after  having  exhausted  the 
small  provision  of  three  loaves  left  her  by  the  hermit  who 
had  served  her  as  a  guide,  she  had  lived  solely  on  roots 
and  wild  herbs,  but  that,  after  several  years,  she  met  with 
a  shepherd,  who  thenceforward  faithfully  supplied  her 
with  bread,  of  which  she,  nevertheless,  ate  but  once  in 
three  days.  The  discipline  which  she  took  with  a  large 
cliain  lasted  often  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  sometimes 
two  hours.  Her  hair-cloth  was  so  rough  that  a  woman, 
returning  from  a  pilgrimage,  having  asked  hospitality  of 
her,  told  me  (it  is  still  St.  Teresa  v/ho  speaks),  that  feign- 
ing sleep,  she  saw  the  holy  recluse  take  off  her  hair-cloth 
and  wi})e  it  clean,  for  it  was  full  of  blood.  The  warfare 
she  had  to  sustain  against  the  demons  made  her  suffer  still 
more  than  her  austerities ;  she  told  our  sisters  that  they 
appeared  to  her,  now  in  the  form  of  great  dogs  who 
sprang  on  her  shoulders,  and  now  in  that  of  snakes ;  but 
do  as  they  might,  they  could  not  make  her  afraid. 

She  heard  Mass  in  a  convent  of  the  Sisters  of  Mercy,  a 
quarter  of  a  league  distant ;    sometimes   she   made   the 


HISTORICAL. 


293 


ncclium 
upright 
ig  leave 
d  three 
aughter 
t  admir- 
ng  ages, 
time  not 
sport  of 
it  trans- 
or  dan- 
on  her  ; 
I,  flying 
e  of  en- 
Spousc! 
,vith  the 

m  eight 

sted  the 

mit  who 

on  roots 

net  with 

ied  her 

once  in 

a  hirge 

netimcs 

woman, 

ality  of 

it  feign- 

ir-cloth 

warfare 

Ter  still 

at  they 

ofs  who 

but 


t3 

es 


ft 


Fcrcv,  a, 
idc   the 


journey  on  her  knees.  She  wore  a  tunic  of  coarse  serge, 
and  over  that  a  robe  of  drugget  so  fashioned  that  she  was 
taken  for  a  man. 

Nevertheless,  the  fame  of  her  sanctity  soon  spread 
everywhere,  and  the  people  conceived  so  great  a  venera- 
tion for  her  that  they  flocked  from  every  side,  so  that,  on 
certain  days,  the  surrounding  country  was  covered  with 
vehicles  full  of  people  going  to  see  her. 

"About  this  time,"  says  St.  Teresa,"  she  was  seized 
with  a  great  desire  to  found  near  her  cave  a  monastery  of 
religious,  but  being  undecided  in  her  choice  of  the  order, 
she  postponed  for  a  time  the  execution  of  her  design. 
One   day    while   at   prayer  before  a  crucifix  which  she 
always  carried  about  her,  Our  Lord  showed  her  a  white 
mantle,  and  gave  her  to  luiderstand  that  she  was  to  found 
a  monastery  of   barefooted  Carmelites.     She  knew  not 
till  then  that  such  an  order  existed,  as  she  had  never 
heard  it  mentioned  ;  indeed,  we  had  then  but  two  monas- 
teries of  reformed  Carmelites,  that  of  Moncera  and  that 
of  Pastrana.      Catherine  was  speedily  informed  of   the 
existence  of  this  last.     As  Pastrana  belonged  to  the  Prin- 
cess of  Eboli,  her  former  friend,  she  set  out  for  that  town 
with  the  firm   resolution  of  doing   what  Our  Lord  had 
enjoined  her  to  do.     It  was  at  Pastrana,  in  the  church  of 
our  religious,  that  the  Blessed  Catherine  took  the  habit  of 
Our  Lady  of  Mount  Carniel,   having  no  intentio."   not- 
withstanding that  act,  to  embrace  the  religious  life.     (>ur 
Lord  conducted  her  by  another  way,  and  she  never  felt 
any  attraction  towards  that  state.     What  kept  her  away 
from  it  was  the  fear  of  being  obliged  through  obedience 
to  moderate  her  austerities  and  quit  her  solitude." 

As  she  had  worn  man's  apparel  ever  since  she  had  been 
in  the  desert,  she  would  not  now  change  it.  vSo,  in  laying 
aside  her  hermit's  robe,  and  assuming  that  of  Carmel,  she 
took  a  habit  like  that  of  the  barefooted  Carmelite  monks, 
and  wore  it  till  her  last  breath.  In  this  Catherine  was 
led  by  a  very  special  way. 

Catherine    had    been    preceded    at    Pastrana    by  the 


I 


^^■<^• 


, 


294 


PURGATORY. 


I      i 


account  of  the  wonders  which  had  marked  the  eight  years 
she  had  spent  in  her  cave  ;  she  was  thus  greeted  as  a 
saint  as  soon  as  she  appeared  ;  no  one  was  surprised  to 
see  her  in  her  Carmelite  habit,  a  cowl  on  her  head,  a 
white  mantle  on  her  shoulders,  a  robe  of  coarse  drugget, 
and  a  leathern  girdle.  God  permitted  the  appearance  of 
Catherine  at  the  court  of  Philip  II.  as  a  virgin  with  the 
heart  of  a  man,  victorious  over  all  the  weakness  of  her 
sex,  and  rivalling  in  her  austerities  the  most  famous  peni- 
tents of  the  desert.  At  the  Escurial,  she  observed  the 
same  abstinence  as  in  her  hermitage ;  there,  as  in  her 
cave,  she  took  but  one  hour's  sleep,  and  gave  to  prayer 
the  rest  of  the  time  at  her  disposal. 

From  the  Escurial,  Catherine  returned  to  Madrid. 
From  the  carriage  in  which  she  rode,  she  gave  her  bless- 
ing to  the  multitudes  who  cro\.'ded  the  road  as  she  passed. 
.  .  .  The  Nuncio,  having  sent  for  her,  reproached  her 
for  wearing  the  apparel  of  a  man,  and  for  taking  it  upon 
her  to  give  her  blessing,  like  a  bishop.  The  humble  virgin 
heard  all  prostrate  on  the  ground.  When  the  Nuncio  had 
finished  speaking,  she  arose  and  justified  herself  with  that 
holy  simplicity  peculiar  to  herself.  The  legate  of  the 
Holy  See,  perceiving  then  that  God  was  leading  the 
Blessed  Catherine  by  an  extraordinary  way,  left  her  at 
liberty  to  wear  that  costume,  blessed  her,  and  recom- 
mended himself  to  her  prayers. 

In  Madrid  Catherine  again  met  Don  Juan  of  Austria, 
who  had  been  appointed  Generalissimo  of  the  Christian 
fleet  directed  against  the  Turks.  He  gave  her  .the  name 
of  mother,  and  regarded  her  as  a  Saint.  After  having 
given  some  wise  counsel  to  the  young  prince,  she  pre- 
dicted to  him  that  he  should  obtain  a  victory  over  the 
enemies  of  the  Christian  name.  It  was  a  happy  day  in 
the  life  of  Don  Juan  on  which  he  heard  these  prophetic 
words.  Kneeling  on  the  ground,  with  clasped  hands  and 
tearful  eyes,  the  future  liberator  of  Christendom  asked 
Catherine's  blessing,  and  arose  with  a  heart  strengthened 
by  an  invincible  hope. 


ht  years 
ted  as  a 
riscd  to 
head,  a 
Iriiggct, 
ranee  of 
vith  the 
;s  of  her 
•us  peni- 
vecl  the 
;  in  her 
D  prayer 

Madrid. 

er  bless- 

!  passed. 

hed  her 

it  upon 

le  virgin 

icio  had 

^ith  that 

c  of  the 

ling  the 

her  at 

recom- 

L'Vustria, 
hristian 
le  name 

having 
she  pre- 
ver  the 

day  in 

ophetic 

ids  and 

asked 

jthened 


HISTORICAL. 


J95 


The  Carmelites  of  Toledo,  amongst  whom  she  spent 
some  time,  endeavoring  to  persuade  her  to  diminish  her 
austerities  a  little,  she  replied  in  these  memorable  words, 
which  reveal  to  us  the  secret  of  her  life :  "  When  one  has 
seen,  as  I  have,  what  Purgatory  and  Hell  are,  one  cannot 
do  too  much  to  draw  souls  from  one,  and  preserve  them 
from  the  other ;  I  may  not  spare  myself,  since  I  have 
offered  myself  in  sacrifice  for  them." 

On  the  7th  October,  1571,  Catherine  was  warned  by  a 
light  from  above  that  the  great  combat  against  the  Turks 
was  to  take  place  that  day.  She  macerated  herself  with 
fearful  rigor,  and  offered  herself  as  a  victim  to  the  anger 
of  God,  justly  indignant  at  the  sins  of  His  people.  She 
addressed  to  the  Saviour  of  men  the  most  tender  sui)pli- 
cations,  when,  all  at  once,  seized  with  a  holy  transport, 
she  uttered  in  a  distinct  voice  these  words,  whit  i  were 
heard  by  several  persons  of  the  Court:  "  O  Lta-d,  the 
hour  is  come,  help  Thy  Church  ;  give  the  victory  to  the 
Catholic  chiefs ;  have  pity  on  so  many  kingdoms  which 
are  Thine  own,  preserve  them  from  ruin !  The  wind  is 
against  us :  my  God,  if  Thou  order  it  not  to  change,  we 
perish !  " 

Some  time  after,  she  cried  out  in  a  still  stronger  voice : 
"  Blessed  be  Thou,  O  Lord,  Thou  hast  changed  the  wind 
at  the  needful  moment;  finish  what  Thou  hast  begun!" 
After  these  words  she  prayed  in  silence  for  a  long  space 
of  time.  Then,  starting  up  joyfully,  she  offered  to  God 
the  most  lively  thanksgivings  for  the  victory  He  had  just 
granted  to  His  Church. 

Soon,  in  fact,  the  news  of  the  victory  of  Lepanto  con- 
firmed the  miraculous  vision  of  Catherine.  Don  Juan 
wrote  immediately  to  the  venerable  Catherine  of  Car- 
dona,  thanking  her  for  her  prayers,  and  sent  her,  as  a 
memento,  some  spoils  taken  from  the  enemy. 

Catherine  having  received,  at  the  Court  and  elsewhere, 
sufficient  means  to  found  her  mona:,tery,  regained  her 
solitude  in  the  month  of  March,  1572.  She  lived  there 
five  years  longer.     It  has  been  considered  as  a  supernat- 


f 


-H      1 


296 


PURGATORY. 


iiral  thing  that  mortifications  so  extraordinary  as  hers  had 
not  ended  her  life  sooner.     She  died  on  the  nth  of  May, 

1577- 
"  One  day,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "  after  havinj^   received 

communion  in  the  church  of  this  monastery  (that  which 
Catherine  had  founded  \,  I  entered  into  a  profound  recol- 
lection, which  was  soon  followed  by  an  ecstasy.  Whilst  I 
was  thus  ravished  out  of  myself,  that  holy  woman  ap- 
peared to  my  intellectual  vision,  resplendent  with  light 
like  a  glorified  body,  and  surrounded  by  angels.  She 
said  to  me :  *  Weary  not  of  founding  monasteries,  but 
rather  pursue  that  work  with  ardor.'  I  understood, 
albeit  that  she  did  not  say  so,  that  she  was  assisting  mc 
with  God.  This  apparition  left  me  exceedingly  com- 
forted, and  inflamed  with  the  desire  of  working  for  Our 
Lord's  glory.  Hence,  I  hope  from  His  divine  goodness 
and  the  powerful  prayers  of  that  Saint,  that  I  may  be 
able  to  do  something  for  His  service." 


THE  EMPEROR  NICHOLAS  PRAYING  FOR  HIS  MOTHER. 

Heretics  or  Schismatics  care  very  little  about  contra- 
dicting themselves.  It  is  of  the  nature  of  the  iniquity  of 
lying.  The  Ami  dc  la  Religion,  of  March  i,  1851,  judi- 
ciously observes : 

"  It  is  well  known  that  the  Russian  Church  pretends 
not  to  admit  the  doctrine  of  l\irgatory,  which  one  of  its 
principal  prelates  set  down  as  ^a  crude  modern  invention' 
Nevertheless,  the  manifesto  recently  published  by  the 
Emperor  Nicholas,  on  the  death  of  his  mother,  the  Grand 
Duchess  Elizabeth,  Duchess  of  Nassau,  concludes  with 
these  words  :  *  We  are  convinced  that  all  our  faithful  sub- 
jects will  unite  their  prayers  with  ours,  for  the  repose  of 
the  soul  of  the  deceased.'  How  are  we  to  reconcile  this 
request  for  prayers  with  the  denial  of  Purgatory,  coming 
as  it  does  from  the  mouth  of  the  supreme  pontiff  of  the 
Church  of  Russia  ? — "  Christian  Anecdotes,'' 


hers  had 
of  May, 

received 
lat  which 
lid  rccoi- 
Whilst  I 
)man  ap- 
ith  light 
els.  She 
:ries,  but 
Jerstood, 
sting  me 
jly  com- 

for  Our 
[goodness 

may  be 


lOTHER. 

t  contra- 
iquity  of 
I5i,judi- 

iretends 
ne  of  its 
ivcntion' 

by  the 
e  Grand 
cs  with 
iful  sub- 
rcposc  of 
cile  this 

coming 
r  of  the 


HISTORICAL. 


297 


FUNERAL  ORATION  ON  PIUS  VI. 

REV.    ARTHUR    O'i.EARY,   O.  S.  F. 

Thou  hast  lifted  nic  up,  and  cast  mc  down.  My  days  are  like  a  shadow 
that  dcclineth,  and  I  am  withered  like  grass;  but  thou,  O  Lord,  shalt 
endure  forever. — Ps.  cii.,  verses  10,  11,  12. 

Yes!  ()  my  God  !  You  lift  up  and  you  cast  down  ;  you 
humble  and  you  exalt  the  sons  of  men.  You  cut  off  the 
breath  of  princes,  and  are  terrible  to  the  kings  of  the 
earth.  It  is  then  we  know  your  power,  when,  by  tlie 
stroke  of  death,  we  feel  what  we  arc,  that  our  life  is  but 
as  a  shadow  that  dcclineth,  a  vapor  dispersed  by  the 
beams  of  the  rising  sun,  or  as  the  grass  which  loses  at 
noon  the  verdure  it  had  acquired  from  the  morning  dew. 
It  is  a  truth  of  which  we  arc  made  sensible  upon  this 
mournful  occasion,  and  in  this  sacred  temple,  where  the 
trophies  of  death  are  displayed,  and  its  image  rellectcd 
on  every  side.  The  mournful  accents  of  the  solemn 
dirge,  the  sable  drapery  that  lines  these  walls,  the  vest- 
ments of  the  ministers  of  the  sacred  altar,  this  artificial 
darkness  which  is  a  figure  of  the  darkness  of  the  grave; — • 
the  tapers  that  blaze  around  the  sanctuary  to  i)ut  us  in 
mind  that  when  our  mortal  life  is  extinct,  there  is  an  iin- 
raortal  life  beyond  the  grave,  in  a  kingdom  of  light 
and  bliss  reserved  for  those  who  walk  on  earth  by  tlie 
light  of  the  gospel; — that  tomb,  in  which  the  tiara  and 
the  sceptre,  the  Pontifical  dignity,  and  the  power  of  the 
temporal  i)rince,  are  covered  over  with  a  funeral  shroud, — 
every  object  that  strikes  the  eye,  and  every  sound  that 
vibrates  on  the  ear,  is  an  awful  memento  which  reminds 
us  of  our  approaching  dissolution,  points  out  the  vanity 
and  nothingness  of  all  earthly  grandeur,  and  convinces 
us  that  in  holiness  of  life,  which  unites  us  to  God  and 
secures  an  immortal  crown  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  sover- 
eign good,  consists  the  greatness  as  well  as  the  happi- 
ness of  man.     An  awful  truth  exemplified  in  many  great 


298 


PURGATORY. 


IP 


characters,  hurled  from  the  summit  of  power  and  grand- 
cur  into  an  abyss  of  woe,  whose  unshaken  virtue  sup- 
ported them  under  the  severest  trials,  and  whose  great- 
ness of  soul  shone  conspicuous  in  their  fall  as  well  as  in 
their  elevation.  A  truth  particularly  exemplified  in  His 
Holiness  Pope  Pius  VI.,  whose  obsequies  we  are  assem- 
bled to  solemnize  on  this  day — Pius  VI.  great  in  pros- 
perity ;  Pius  VI.  great  in  adversity. 

When  his  life  is  written  by  an  impartial  hand,  when  his 
contemporaries  are  dead,  when  history  lays  open  the 
hidden  and  mysterious  springs  of  the  events  connected 
with  his  reign,  and  posterity  erects  a  tribunal,  at  which  it 
is  to  judge,  without  dread  of  giving  offence,  then  his  vir- 
tues and  wisdom  will  appear  in  their  true  light,  as  the 
symmetry  and  proportion  of  those  beautiful  statues, 
which  are  placed  in  the  porticoes  or  entrance  of  temples 
and  public  edifices,  are  better  discovered,  and  seen  to  a 
greater  advantage  at  a  certain  distance. 

Though  his  life  was  spotless,  yet  as  the  judgments  of 
God  are  unsearchable,  as  there  is  such  a  quantity  of  dross 
mixed  with  our  purest  gold,  such  chaff  with  our  purest 
grain,  our  purest  virtues  tarnished  with  so  many  imper- 
fections, that  on  appearing  in  the  presence  of  God,  into 
whose  Kingdom  the  slightest  stain  is  not  admitted,  who 
can  say,  "  My  soul  is  pure ;  I  have  nothing  to  answer  for  ?  " 
as  in  our  belief,  divine  justice  may  inflict  temporary  as 
well  as  eternal  punishments  beyond  the  grave,  according 
to  the  quality  of  unexpiated  offences,  let  us  perform  the 
sacred  rites  of  our  holy  religion  for  the  repose  of  his 
soul.^ 

*  These  extracts  are  taken  from  the  funeral  oration  on  Pius  VI.,  de- 
livered at  St.  Patrick's  Chapel,  Soho,  in  presence  of  Monsignore  Erskine, 
Papal  Auditor,  on  the  i6lh  Nov.,  1799. 


HISTORICAL. 


299 


3  grand- 
tuc  siip- 
e  grcat- 
cll  as  in 
J  in  His 
e  assem- 
in  pros- 

vhen  his 
pen  the 
>nnected 
which  it 
his  vir- 
,  as  the 
statues, 
temples 
een  to  a 


lents  of 
of  dross 
purest 
imper- 
od,  into 
3d,  who 
jrfor?" 
rary  as 
cordini^ 
3rm  the 
of  his 


I  VI.,  dc- 
Erskinc, 


P 


I 


FROM  THE  FUNERAL  ORATION  ON  THE  REV.  ARTHUR 

O'LEARY,  O.S.F. 


RKV.    MORGAN    D  ARCY. 


My  brethren,  as  it  is  God  alone,  that  searcher  of  hearts, 
who  can  truly  appreciate  the  merits  of  His  elect,  as  it  be- 
longs only  to  the  Holy  Catholic  Church,  '^  that  pillar  and 
ground  of  truth,''  to  canonize  them,  as  we  know  that  nothing 
impure  can  enter  into  heaven,  and  that  Moses  himself,  that 
great  legislator,  and  peculiar  favorite  of  heaven,  was  not 
entirely  spotless  in  the  discharge  of  his  ministry,  nor 
exempt  from  temporal  punishment  at  his  death,  let  us  no 
longer  interrupt  the  awful  mysteries  and  impressive 
ceremonies  of  religion,  but,  uniting,  and,  as  it  were,  em- 
bodying our  prayers  and  fervent  supplications,  let  us 
offer  a  holy  violence  to  heaven ;  while  we  mingle  our 
tears  with  the  precious  blood  of  the  spotless  Victim 
offered  in  sacrifice  on  our  hallowed  altar,  let  us  implore 
the  Father  of  Mercies,  through  the  merits  and  passion  of 
His  adorable  Son,  our  merciful  Redeemer,  to  purify  this 
His  minister,  and  admit  him  to  a  participation  of  the  never- 
ending  joys  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem.  May  he  rest  in 
peace.    A  men. 


DE  MORTUIS.     OUR  DECEASED  PRELATES. 

[From  a  Sermon  delivered  by  Most  Rev.  Archbishop  Corrigan,  of  New 
York,  at  the  Third  Plenary  Council  of  Baltimore.] 

Remember  your  prelates  who  have  spoken  the  Word  of  God   to  you. 
Heb.  c.  xiii,  v.  2. 

Of  the  forty-six  Fathers  who  sat  in  the  Second  Plenary 
Council,  only  sixteen  still  survive.  More  than  this.  Dur- 
ing the  few  years  that  have  since  elapsed  not  only  have 
thirty  bishops  and  archbishops  gone  to  the  house  of  their 
eternity,  but  in  several  instances,  their  successors,  too, 
have  passed  away,  so  that  the  Solemn  Requiem  offered 


■ 


'    1 


HJ 


I 


h 

li 

h       ^1 


300 


rURGATORY. 


this  morning  for  the  prelates  who  have  died  since  the 
last  Council  is  chanted  for  forty-two  consecrated  rulers. 
For  these,  "  as  it  is  a  good  and  wholesome  thought  to 
pray  for  the  dead,"  we  send  up  our  sighs  and  our  prayers 
in  the  spirit  of  fraternal  charity,  and  as  a  tribute  of  love 
and  gratitude  to  our  Fathers  in  the  faith  who  had  the 
burden  of  the  day  and  the  heat,  and  who  now  rest  from 
their  labors.  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord. 
From  henceforth  now,  saith  the  Spirit,  .  .  .  for  their 
works  follow  them." 

In  the  commemorative  services  and  solemn  supplica- 
tions offered  in  this  cathedral,  the  first  place,  dear 
brethren,  is  deservedly  due  to  your  own  lamented  arch- 
bishops. .  .  .  Besides  these,  memory  turns,  with  fond 
regret,  to  a  long  list  of  Right  Reverend  Prelates,  who 
were  all  present  at  the  late  Plenary  Council,  and  who 
have  since,  one  by  one,  passed  away.  ...  As  we  re- 
peat each  well-known  name,  hosts  of  pleasant  memories 
come  crowding  on  the  mind  just  as  by-gone  scenes  are 
awakened  to  new  life  by  some  sweet  strain  of  once 
familiar  music.  Venerable  forms  loom  up  again  before 
us  with  the  paternal  kindness,  the  distinguished  presence, 
the  winning  ways  we  knew  so  well  of  old ;  and  while  the 
vision  lasts  we  seem  to  hear  a  still  small  voice  saying : 
"  To-day  for  me,  to-morrow  for  thee,"  or  the  echo  of  the 
words  spoken  by  the  wise  woman  of  Thecua  to  the  king 
on  his  throne  :  "  We  all  die,  and  fall  down  into  the  earth, 
like  waters  that  return  no  more." 

"  Star  differcth  from  star  in  glory."  The  bishops,  whose 
virtues  we  commemorate,  differed  in  gifts  of  mind,  in 
habits  of  thought,  in  nationality,  in  early  training,  in  per- 
sonal experience,  in  almost  everything  else  but  their 
common  faith.  This  golden  bond  united  them  to  each 
other  and  to  us.  There  was  still  another  point  of  re- 
semblance and  another  link  that  bound  them  all  together — 
the  participation  in  the  divine  work  of  the  Good  Shep- 
herd which  was  laid  upon  them  all.    .     .     . 


since  the 
(1  rulers, 
ought  to 
r  prayers 
te  of  love 
had  the 
rest  from 
;he  Lord, 
for  their 

supplica- 
ce,  dear 
ted  arch- 
v^ith  fond 
tes,  who 
md  who 
.s  we  re- 
lemories 
encs  are 

of  once 
n  before 
)resence, 
i^hile  the 

saying : 
lo  of  the 
the  king 
le  earth, 

s,  whose 
nind,  in 
,  in  per- 
ut  their 
to  each 
t  of  re- 
[•ether — 
i  Shep- 


PART   IV. 

Thoughts  of  Various  Authors 
ON  Purgatory. 


The  fuel  justice  layeth  on, 
And  mercy  blows  the  coals. 

The  metal  in  this  furnace  wrought 
Is  men's  defilod  souls. 

— SOUTHWFXL. 


I 


i.  i ! 


i.l 


' 


I  I  K 

' !  1  i; 


/:it 


u 

i!  ij 


!   i 


m 


i 


7 


THOUGHTS    OF    VARIOUS    AUTHORS 
ON    PURGATORY. 


PURGATORY. 


CARDINAL   NEWMAN. 


Thus  we  see  how,  as  time  went  on,  the  doctrine  of  Pur- 
gatory was  brought  home  to  the  minds  of  the  faithful  as 
a  portion  or  form  of  penance  due  for  post-baptismal  sin. 
And  thus  the  apprehension  of  this  doctrine,  and  the  prac- 
tice of  Infant  Baptism,  would  grow  into  general  recep- 
tion together.  Cardinal  Fisher  gives  another  reason  for 
Purgatory  being  then  developed  out  of  earlier  points  of 
faith.  He  says:  "  Faith,  whether  in  l\irgatory  or  in  In- 
dulgences, was  not  so  necessary  in  the  Primitive  Church 
as  now  ;  for  then  love  so  burned  that  every  one  was  ready 
to  meet  death  for  Christ.  Crimes  were  rare  ;  and  such  as 
occurred  were  avenged  by  the  great  severity  of  the  Can- 
ons. .  .  .  The  doctrine  of  post-baptismal  sin,  especially 
when  realized  in  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory,  leads  the  in- 
quirer to  fresh  developments  beyond  itself.  Its  effect  is 
to  convert  a  Scripture  statement,  which  might  seem  only 
of  temporary  application,  into  a  universal  and  perpetual 
truth.  When  St.  Paul  and  St.  Barnabas  would  '  confirm 
the  souls  of  the  disciples,'  they  taught  them  *  that  wc 
must,  through  much  tribulation,  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  God.'  It  is  obvious  what  very  practical  results  would 
follow  on  such  an  announcement  in  the  instance  of  those 
who  accepted  the  apostolic  decision ;  and,  in  like  manner, 
a  conviction  that  sin  must  have  its  punishment,  here  or 
hereafter,  and  that  we  all  must  suffer,  how  overpower- 
ing will  be  its  effect,  what  a  new  light  does  it  cast  on  the 
history  of  the  soul,  what  a  change  does  it  make  in  our 
judgment  of  the  external  world,  what  a  reversal  of  our 
natural  wishes  and  aims  for  the  future !     Is  a  doctrine 


( 


3^4 


PURGATORY. 


conceivable  which  wouUl  so  elevate  the  mind  above  this 
present  state,  and  teach  it  so  successtully  to  dare  ditlicult 
tliin«;s,  and  to  be  reckless  of  dani^er  and  pain  ?  lie  who 
believes  that  suffer  he  must,  and  that  delayed  punishment 
may  be  the  j;reater,  will  be  above  the  world,  will  admire 
othin<r,  lear  nothinir,  desire  notiiinsjf.     He  has  uitiiin  his 


n 


breast  a  source  of  j^reatness,  self-denial,  heroism.    This  is 
the  secret  sprin^^  of   strenuous  efforts  and   persevering^ 
toil;  of  the  sacrifice  of  fortune,  friends,  ease,  reputation, 
happiness.     There  is,  it  is  true,  a  higher  class  of  motives 
which  will  be  felt  by  the  Saints;  who  will  do  from  love 
wiiat  all  Christians  who  act  acceptably  do  from  faith.  And, 
moreover,  the  ordinary  measures  of  charity  which  Chris- 
tians possess  suthce  for  securinj^  such  respectable  atten- 
tion to  religious  duties  as  the  routine  necessities  of  the 
Church  require.     But,  if  we  would  raise  an  army  of  de- 
voted men  to  resist  the  world,  to  oppose  sin  and  error,  to 
relieve  misery,  or  to  pro})ai^ate  truth,  we  must  be  pro- 
vided with  motives  which  keenly  affect  the  many.    Chris- 
tian love  is  too  rare  a  j^ift,  philanthropy  is  too  weak  a 
material,  for  that  occasion.     Nor  is  there  an  inlluencc  to 
be  found  to  suit  our  purpose  besides  this  solemn  convic- 
tion, which  arises  out  of  the  very  rudiments  of  Christian 
theology,  and  is  taught  by  its  most  ancient  masters, — this 
sense  of  the  awfulncss  of  post-baptismal  sin.    It  is  in  vain 
to  look  out  for  missionaries  for  China  or  Africa,  or  evan- 
gelists for  our  great  towns,  or  Christian  attendants  on  the 
sick,  or  teachers  of  the  ignorant,  on  such  a  scale  of  num- 
bers as  the  need  requires,  without  the  doctrine  of  Purga- 
tory.    For  thus  the  sins  of  youth  are  turned  to  account 
by   the   profitable    penance   of   manhood ;    and   terrors, 
which  the  philosopher  scorns  in  the  individual,  become 
the  benefactors,  and    earn  the   gratitude  of  nations." — 
Essay  on  the  Development  of  CJiristian  Doctrine^  p.  386. 

'  Cardinal  Newman,  as  he  tells  us  himself  in  the  preface  to  tliis  work, 
had  it  in  course  of  preparation,  and,  in  fact,  almost  completed,  when  he  left 
the  Anglican  communion  to  become  a  Catholic. 


above  tin's 
\vc  clillicult 
'      Ilculio 
)unisluncnt 
vill  admire 
witliin  liis 
m.    This  is 
crscvcrinjj: 
fcputation, 
i)t  motives 
•  from  love 
aitli.  And, 
licli  Chris- 
ible  atten- 
tics  of  tile 
my  of  de- 
d  error,  to 
St  be  pro- 
ly.    Chris- 
)o  weak  a 
hience  to 
in  convic- 
Christian 
crs, — this 
is  in  vain 
,  or  cvan- 
nts  on  the 

of  num- 
)f  Purga- 
>  aecount 

tenors, 
,  become 
tions."— 
386. 

)  tliis  work, 
k^hcn  he  left 


Tiiou(;nrs  ok  various  tkusons. 


305 


i  • 


OUR  DEBT  TO  THE  DEAD. 


C.\KI)1NAI,    MANNINC. 


i 


The  vSaints,  by  tlieir  intercession  and  their  patrotiage, 
unite  u§  with  Ciod.  They  watch  over  us  ;  tliey  pray  lor 
us  ;  they  obtain  graces  for  us.  Our  jj^uardian  an«;els  are 
roundabout  us:  they  watch  over  and  protect  us.  The 
man  who  h;is  not  pietv  enous^h  to  ask  tht  ir  prayers  must 
have  a  heart  i)ut  httie  Hke  to  the  love  and  veii'  lalion  of 
the  Sacred  Heart  of  jesus.  But  there  arc  otiier  friends 
of  God  to  wiiom  we  owe  a  debt  of  pietv.  They  are  tliose 
wlio  are  sufferini:^  beyond  tlie  grave,  in  the  silent  kingdom 
of  pain  and  expiation  — in  the  dark  and  yet  blessed  realm 
of  purihcation  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  multiUides  who  pr.ss 
out  of  this  world,  washed  in  the  I'recious  IJlood,  perfectly 
absolved  of  all  guilt  of  sin,  children  and  friends  of  God, 
blessed  souls,  heirs  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  all  but 
Saints;  nevertheless,  they  are  not  yet  altogether  purified 
for  Mis  kingdom.  Thev  are  there  detained — kept  back 
from  His  presence — until  their  expiation  is  accomplished. 
You  and  I,  and  every  one  of  us,  will  pass  through  that 
place  of  expiation.  Neither  you  nor  I  are  Saints,  nor, 
upon  earth,  ever  will  be;  therefore,  before  we  can  see 
God,  we  must  be  purified  by  pain  in  that  silent  realm. 
I5ut  those  blessed  souls  are  friends  of  Ciod  next  after  Mis 
wSaints ;  and  in  the  same  order  they  ought  to  be  the  ob- 
jects of  our  piety  ;  that  is,  of  our  love  and  compassion,  of 
our  sympathy  and  our  prayers.  They  can  do  nothing 
now  for  themselves  :  they  have  no  longer  any  Sacraments; 
they  do  not  even  pray  for  themselves.  They  are  so  con- 
formed to  the  will  of  God  that  they  suffer  there  in  sub- 
mission and  in  silence.  They  desire  nothing  except  that 
His  will  should  be  accomplished.  Therefore,  it  is  our 
duty  to  help  them — to  help  them  by  our  prayers,  our 
penances,  our  mortifications,  our  alms,  by  the  Hc^ly  Sac- 
rifice of  the  Altar.     There  may  be  father  and  mother, 


1 '' 


3o6 


PURGATORY. 


brother  and  sister,  friend  and  child,  whom  you  have  loved 
as  your  own  life :  they  may  now  be  there.  Have  you  for- 
gotten them?  Have  you  no  pity  for  them  now,  no  natu- 
ral piety,  no  spirit  of  love  for  them?  Do  you  forget 
them  all  the  day  long  ?  Look  back  upon  those  who  made 
your  home  in  your  early  childhood,  the  light  of  whose 
faces  you  can  still  see  shining  in  your  memories,  and  the 
sweetness  of  whose  voice  is  still  in  your  ears — do  you 
forget  them  because  they  are  no  longer  seen  ?  Is  it,  in- 
deed, **  out  of  sight,  out  of  mind  "  ?  What  an  impiety  of 
heart  is  this  ! 

The  Catholic  Church,  the  true  mother  of  souls,  cher- 
ishes, with  loving  memory,  all  her  departed.  Never  does 
a  day  pass  but  she  prays  for  them  at  the  altar ;  never  does 
a  year  go  by  that  there  is  not  a  special  commemoration 
of  all  her  children  departed  on  one  solemn  day,  which  is 
neither  feast  nor  fast,  but  a  day  of  the  profoundest  piety 
and  of  the  deepest  compassion.  Surely,  then,  if  we  have 
the  spirit  of  piety  in  our  hearts,  the  holy  souls  will  be  a 
special  object  of  our  remembrance  and  our  prayers. 
How  many  now  are  there  whom  we  have  known  in  life  ? 
There  are  those  who  have  been  grievously  afflicted,  and 
those  who  have  been  very  sinful,  but,  through  the  Pre- 
cious Blood  and  a  death-bed  repentance,  have  been  saved 
at  last.  Have  you  forgotten  them  ?  Are  you  doing 
nothing  for  them  ?  There  may  also  be  souls  there  for 
whom  there  is  no  one  to  pray  on  earth ;  there  may  be 
souls  who  are  utterly  forgotten  by  their  own  kindred, 
outcast  from  all  remembrance ;  and  yet  the  Precious 
Blood  was  shed  for  their  sakes.  If  no  one  remember 
them  now,  you,  at  least,  if  you  have  in  your  hearts  the 
gift  of  piety,  will  pray  for  them. — Internal  Mission  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  p.  247. 


have  loved 
^'c  you  for- 
V,  no  natu- 
^ou  forget 
who  made 
of  whose 
;s,  and  the 
s — do  you 
Is  it,  in- 
impiety  of 

3uls,  cher- 
fcver  does 
lever  does 
em  oration 
,  which  is 
Jest  piety 
f  we  have 
1  will  be  a 
prayers. 
rn  in  life  ? 
cted,  and 
the  Pre- 
en saved 
3u  doing 
there  for 
:  may  be 
kindred, 
Precious 
^member 
arts  the 
9/1  of  the 


THOUGHTS  OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS.  307 


PURGATORY. 

CARDINAL   WISK.MAN. 

I  NEED  hardly  observe,  that  there  is  not  a  sinj^lc  liturgy 
existing,  whether  we  consider  the  most  ancient  period  of 
the  Church,  or  the  most  distant  part  of  the  world,  in  which 
this  doctrine  is  not  laid  down.  In  all  Oriental  liturgies, 
we  find  parts  appointed,  in  which  the  Priest  or  Bishop  is 
ordered  to  pray  for  the  souls  of  tlie  faithful  departed  ;  and 
tables  were  anciently  kept  in  the  churches,  called  the  Dyp- 
tichs,  on  which  the  names  of  the  deceased  were  enrolled, 
that  they  might  be  remembered  in  the  Sacrifice  of  the 
Mass  and  the  prayers  of  the  faithful.  The  name  of  Purga- 
tory scarcely  requires  a  passing  comment.  It  has,  indeed, 
been  made  a  topic  of  abuse,  on  the  ground  that  it  is  not 
to  be  found  in  Scripture.  But  where  is  the  w'ord  Trinity 
to  be  met  with  ?  Where  is  the  word  Incarnaiion  to  be 
read  in  Scripture?  Where  are  many  other  terms,  held 
most  sacred  and  important  in  the  Christian  religion  ?  The 
doctrines  arc,  indeed,  found  there;  but  these  names  were 
not  given,  until  circumstances  had  rendered  them  neces- 
sary. We  see  that  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  have  called 
it  a  purging  fire — a  place  of  expiation  or  purgation.  The 
idea  is  precisely,  the  name  almost,  the  same. 

It  has  been  said  by  divines  of  the  English  Church,  that 
the  two  doctrines  which  I  have  joined  together,  of  prayers 
for  the  dead  and  Purgatory,  have  no  necessary  connection, 
and  that,  in  fact,  they  were  not  united  in  the  ancient 
Church.  The  answer  to  this  assertion  I  leave  to  your 
memories,  after  the  passages  which  I  have  read  yoi:  from 
the  Fathers.  They  surely  speak  of  purgation  by  fire  after 
death,  whereby  the  imperfections  of  this  life  are  washed 
out,  and  satisfaction  made  to  God  for  sins  not  sufficiently 
expiated ;  they  speak,  at  the  same  time,  of  our  prayers 
being  beneficial  to  those  who  have  departed  this  life  in  a 
state  of  sin ;  and  these  propositions  contain  our  entire 
doctrine  on  Purgatory.     It  has  also  been  urged  that  the 


I  i* 


ii    'i 


m 


f 


308 


PURGATORY. 


established  religion,  or  Protestantism,  does  not  deny  or 
discourage  prayers  for  the  dead,  so  long  as  they  are  inde- 
pendent of  a  belief  in  Purgatory;  and,  in  this  respect,  it  is 
stated  to  agree  with  the  primitive  Christian  Church.    But, 
my   brethren,  tins    distinction  is   exceedingly  fallacious. 
Religion   is   a  lively,  practical   profession ;    it  is  to   be 
ascertained    and    judged    by    its    sanctioned    practices 
and  outward  demonstration,  rather   than   by  the   mere 
opinions   of  the    few.      I   would   at    once   fairly   appeal 
to   the   judgment   of   any    Protestant,  whether  he    has 
been  taught,  and  has  understood  that  such  is  the  doc- 
trine of  his  Church.      If,   from   the    services   which   he 
attended,  or   the    Catechism   which  he    has   learned,   or 
the  discourses  heard,  he  has  been  led  to  suppose  that 
praying  for  the  dead,  in  terms  however  general,  was  no- 
wa3^s  a  peculiarity  of  Catholicism,  but  as  much  a  permit- 
ted practice  of  Protestantism.    It  is  a  practical  doctrine  in 
the  Catholic  Church,  it  has  an  influence  highly  consoling 
to  humanity,  and  eminently  worthy  of  a  religion  that  came 
down  from  heaven  to  second  all  the  purest  feelings  of  the 
heart.    Nature  herself  seems  to  revolt  at  the  idea  that  the 
chain  of  attachment  which  binds  us  together  in  life,  can 
be  rudely  snapped  asunder  by  the  hand  of  death,  con- 
quered and  deprived  of  its  sting  since  the  victory  of  the 
cross.     But  it  is  not  to  the  spoil  of  mortality,  cold  and 
disfigured,  that  she  clings  with  affection.      It  is  but  an 
earthly  and  almost  unchristian  grief,  which  sobs  when  the 
grave  closes  over  the  bier  of  a  departed  loved  one :  but 
the  soul  flics  upward  to  a  more  spiritual  affection,  and 
refuses  to  surrender  the  hold  which  it  had  upon  the  love 
and  interest  of  the  spirit  that  has  fled.     Cold  and  dark  as 
the  sepulchral  vault  is  the  belief  that  sympathy  is  at  an 
end  when  the  body  is  shrouded  in  decay,  and  that  no  fur- 
ther interchange  of  friendly  offices  may  take  place  between 
those  who  have  lain  down  to  sleep  in  peace  and  us,  who 
for  awhile  strew  fading  flowers  upon  their  tomb.     But 
sweet  is  the  consolation  to  the  dying  man,  who,  conscious 
of  imperfection,  believes  that  even  after  his  own  time  of 


THOUGHTS   OF  VARIOUS   AUTHORS. 


309 


not  deny  or 
icy  arc  inde- 
respect,  it  is 
hurch.  But, 
y  fallacious, 
it  is  to  be 
\    practices 

Y  the  mere 
irly  appeal 
ler  he  has 
is  the  doc- 
1  which  he 
learned,  or 
ppose  that 
ral,  was  no- 
h  a  permit- 
doctrine  in 

V  consoling: 
1  that  came 
iings  of  the 
ea  that  the 
in  life,  can 
:leath,  con- 
ory  of  the 

,  cold  and 
is  but  an 
5  when  the 
one:  but 
ction,  and 
1  the  love 
d  dark  as 
y  is  at  an 
at  no  fur- 
3  between 
3  us,  who 
nb.     But 
:onscious 
ti  time  of 


merit  is  expired,  there  are  others  to  make  intercession  on 
his  behalf;  soothing  to  the  afflicted  survivors  the  thought, 
that  instead  of  unavailing  tears  they  possess  more  power- 
ful means  of  actively  relieving  their  friend,  and  testifying 
their  affectionate  regret,  by  prayer  and  supplication.  In 
the  first  moments  of  grief,  this  sentiment  will  often  over- 
power religious  prejudice,  cast  down  the  unbeliever  on 
his  knees  beside  the  remains  of  his  friend,  and  snatch  from 
him  an  unconscious  prayer  for  rest;  it  is  an  impulse  of 
nature,  which  for  the  moment,  aided  by  the  analogies  of 
revealed  truth,  seizes  at  once  upon  this  consoling  belief. 
But  it  is  only  like  the  flitting  and  melancholy  liglit  which 
sometimes  plays  as  a  meteor  over  the  corpses  of  the  dead  ; 
v/hile  the  Catholic  feeling,  cheering,  though  with  solemn 
dimness,  resembles  the  unfailing  lamp  which  the  piety  of 
the  ancients  is  said  to  have  hung  before  the  sepulchres  (^f 
their  dead.  It  prolongs  the  tendercst  affections  beyond 
the  gloom  of  the  grave,  and  it  infuses  the  inspiring  hope 
that  the  assistance  which  we  on  earth  can  afford  to  our 
suffering  brethren,  will  be  amply  repaid  when  they  have 
reached  their  place  of  rest,  and  make  of  them  friends,  who, 
when  luc  in  our  turns  fail,  shall  receive  us  into  everlasting 


mansions.^ 

'"Lectures  on  the  Catholic  Church,"  often  called  the  "  Moorlickl  Lect- 
ures," from  being  delivered  in  St.  Mary's,  MoorfieUls,  in  the  Lent  of  1S36. 
Vol.  1.,  Lecture  xi.,  pp.  65,  68.  This  lecture  upon  Purgatory  is  an  admira- 
ble exposition  of  the  Catholic  doctrine,  supported  by  numberless  testimo- 
nies from  the  Fathers. 


11 


1 


«., 


I 


310 


PURGATORY. 


REPLY  TO  SOME  MISSTATEMENTS  ABOUT  PURGATORY. 

ARCHBISHOP   SPALDING,  OF   liAI.TIMORK. 

"  The  Synod  of  Florence,"  says  this  writer,'  "  was  the 
first  which  taui^ht  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory,  as  an  article 
of  faith.  It  had,  indeed,  been  held  by  the  Pope  and  by 
many  writers,  and  it  became  the  popular  doctrine  during- 
the  period  under  review ;  but  it  was  not  decreed  by 
any  authority  of  the  universal,  or  even  the  whole  Latin 
Church.     In  the  Eastern  Church  it  was  always  rejected." 

Even  admitting,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  the 
Council  of  Florence  was  the  first  which  defined  this  doc- 
trine as  an  article  of  faith,  would  it  thence  follov/  that  the 
doctrine  itself  was  of  recent  origin?  It  could  only  be 
inferred  that  it  was  never  before  questioned,  and  that, 
therefore,  there  was  no  need  of  any  definition  on  the  sub- 
ject. Would  it  follow  from  the  fact,  that  the  Council  of 
Nice  was  the  first  general  synod  which  defined  the  doc- 
trine of  the  consubstantiality  of  the  Son  with  the  Father, 
that  this,  too,  was  a  new  doctrine,  unknown  to  the  three 
previous  centuries?  j\Ir.  Palmer  himself  admits  that  this 
tenet  of  Purgatory  "  had  become  the  popular  doctrine 
during  the  period  under  review;"  which,  in  connection 
with  the  solemn  promises  of  Christ  to  guard  His  Church 
from  error,  clearly  proves  that  it  was  an  article  of  divine 
revelation, — on  the  principles  even  of  our  Oxford  divine  ! 

It  is  not  true  that  ''it  was  always  rejected  in  the  East- 
ern Church."  The  Greek  Church  admitted  it  in  the 
Council  of  Florence  and,  at  least,  impliedly,  in  that  of 
Lyons.  It  had  never  been  a  bar  to  union  between  the 
churches,  however  their  theologians  may  have  differed  on 
the  secondary  question,  whether  the  souls  detained  in  this 
middle  place  of  temporary  expiation  are  purified  by  a 
material  fire.     ''  The  ancient  Fathers,  both  of  the  Greek 

'  Rev.  Wm.  A.  Palmer  of  Worcester  College,  Oxford,  in  his  "Compen- 
dium of  Ecclcsiusticul  History." 


JRGATORY. 


/  "  was  the 
IS  an  article 
)pc  and  by 
rinc  during- 
Iccrccd  by 
hole  Latin 
5  rejected." 
t,  that  the 
d  this  doc- 
)v/  that  the 
id  only  be 

and  that, 
)n  the  sub- 
roiincil  of 
d  the  doc- 
le  Father, 
the  three 
s  that  this 

doctrine 
onnection 
is  Church 
of  divine 
d  divine ! 
the  East- 
it  in  the 
1  that  of 
ween  the 
ffered  on 
^d  in  this 
led  by  a 
e  Greek 

"  Compcn- 


J 


THOUGHTS   OF  VARIOUS   AUTHORS. 


311 


and  Latin  Church,  who  had  occasion  to  refer  to  the  sub- 
ject, had  unanimously  agreed  in  maintaining  the  doctrine, 
as  could  be  easily  shown  by  reference  to  their  works. 
All  the  ancient  liturgies  of  both  Churches  had  embodied 
this  same  article  of  faith.  And  even  at  present,  not  only 
the  Greek  Church,  but  all  the  Oriental  sectaries  still  hold 
it  as  doctrine,  and  practice  accordingly." 


COUNT  DE  MAISTEE  ON  PUKGATORY. 

You  have  heard,  in  countries  separated  from  the  Roman 
Church,  the  doctors  of  the  lazo  deny  at  once  Hell  and 
Purgatory.  You  might  well  have  taken  the  denial  of  a 
word  for  that  of  a  thing.  An  enormous  power  is  that  of 
words !  The  minister  who  would  be  angry  at  that  of 
Purgatory  will  readily  grant  us  ?i  place  of  expiation,  or  an 
intermediate  state,  or  perhaps  even  stations,  who  knows? 
without  thinking  it  in  the  least  ridiculous.  One  ot  the 
great  motives  of  the  sixteenth  century  revolt  was  precisely 
Purgatory.  The  insurgents  would  have  nothing  less  than 
Hell,  pure  and  simple.  Nevertheless,  when  they  became 
philosophers,  they  set  about  denying  the  eternity  of 
punishment,  allowing,  nevertheless,  a  hell  for  a  time,  only 
through  good  policy  and  for  fear  of  putting  into  heaven 
at  one  stroke  Nero  and  Messalina  side  by  side  with  St. 
Louis  and  St.  Teresa.  But  a  temporary  hell  is  nothing 
else  than  Purgatory ;  so  that  having  broken  with  us  be- 
cause they  did  not  want  Purgatory,  they  broke  with  us 
anew  because  they  wanted  Purgatory  only. 


^M 


1.; 


i  A 


% 

m 


312 


PURGATORY. 


WHAT  THE   SAINTS  THOUGHT  OF  PURGATORY. 

In  the  Special  Announcement  of  the  "  Messenger  of  St. 
Joseph's  Union"  for  1885-6,    we  find  the  following   in- 
teresting remarks  in  relation  to  the  devotion  to  the  Souls 
in    Purgatory:     "St.    Gregory    the    Great,  speaking   of 
Purgatory,  calls   it  *  a  penitential  fire  harder  to  endure 
than  all  the  tribulations   of  this  world.'     St.  Auirustine 
says  that   the  torment  of  fire  alone  endured  by  the  holy 
souls  in  Purgatory,  exceeds  all  the  tortures  inflicted  on 
the  martyrs ;  and  St.  Thomas  says  that  there  is  no  differ- 
ence  between   the  fire   of  Hell  and  that   of  Purgatory. 
Pra3'er  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory  is  a  source  of  great 
blessings  to  ourselves.     It  is  related  of  a  holy  religious 
who  had  for  a  loniif  time  strui::a:led  in  vain  to  free  him- 
self  from    an    impure    temptation,    and    who    appealed 
earnestly  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  to  deliver  him,  that  she 
appeared  to  him  and  commanded  him  to  pray  earnestly 
for  the  souls  in  Purgatory,      tie  did  so,  and  from  that 
time  tlie  temptation  left  him.     The  duration  of  the  period 
of  confinement  in   Purgatory  is  probably   much   longer 
than  we  are  inclined  to  think.     We  find  by  the  Revela- 
tions of  Sister  Francesca  of  Pampeluna  that  the  majority 
of  souls  in    Purgatory  with    whose    sufferings   she   was 
made  acquainted,  were   detained  there  for  a  period  ex- 
tending from  thirty  to  sixty  years  ;  and,  as  many  of  those 
of  whom  she  speaks  were  holy  Carmelites,  some  of  whom 
had  even  wrought  miracles  when  on  earth,  what  must  be 
the  fate  of  poor  workUings  who  seldom  think  of  gaining 
an   indulgence   either  for  themselves  or  their  departed 
friends  and  relatives?     Father  Faber  commenting  on  this 
subject — the    length   of   time   that  the    holy    souls   arc 
detained  in  Purgatory — says  very  justly  :     '  We  are  apt 
to  leave  off  too  soon  praying  for    rjr  parents,  friends,  or 
relatives,  imagining  with  a  foolisn  and  unenlightened  es- 
teem for  the  holiness  of  their  lives,  that  they  are  freed 


TORY. 

iger  of  St. 
owing   in- 
thc  Souls 
cakinijf   of 
to  endure 
Augustine 
'the  holy 
iflicted  on 
no  diffcr- 
'urgatory. 
2  of  great 
'  religious 
free  him- 
appcaled 
,  that  she 
earnestly 
from  that 
le  period 
longer 
Re  vela- 
majority 
was 
sriod  ex- 
of those 
of  whom 
must  be 
gaining 
ieparted 
on  this 
3uls   are 
are  apt 
ends,  or 
encd  es- 
e  freed 


:li 


'■ 


THOUGHTS  OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


t(i 


Js 


313 


from  Purgatory  much  sooner  than  they  really  are.'  Can 
the  holy  souls  in  Purgatory  assist  us  by  their  prayers? 
Most  assuredly.  St.  Liguori  says :  '  Though  the  souls 
in  Purgatory  are  unable  to  pray  or  merit  for  themselves, 
they  can  obtain  by  prayer  many  favors  for  those  who 
pray  for  them  on  earth.'  St.  Catherine  of  Bologna  has 
assured  us  that  she  obtained  many  favors  by  the  })rayers 
of  the,  holy  souls  in  Purgatory  which  she  had  asked  in 
vain  through  the  intercession  of  the  saints.  Tiie  lloly 
Ghost  says:  '  He  who  stoppeth  his  ear  against  the  cry 
of  the  poor,  shall  also  cry  himself  and  shall  not  be  heard,'  and 
St.  Vincent  Ferrer  says,  in  expounding  that  passage,  that 
the  holy  souls  in  Purgatory  cry  to  God  for  justice  against 
those  who  on  earth  refuse  to  help  them  by  their  prayers, 
and  that  God  will  most  assuredly  hear  their  cry.  Let  us, 
therefore,  do  all  in  our  power  to  relieve  the  holy  souls  in 
Purgatory,  and  avert  from  ourselves  the  punishment  that 
God  is  sure  to  inflict  on  those  whose  faith  is  too  dead,  or 
whose  hearts  are  too  cold  to  heed  the  cry  that  rises,  day 
and  night,  from  that  sea  of  fire:  '  Have  pity  on  me,  have 
pity  on  me,  at  least  you  my  friends ! '  "  Job  xix.  21. 


^ 


I  '■ 


<'  i 


' ;  I 


: 


«> 


i 


i'fl 


I 


•V- 


314 


rURGATORY. 


PURGATORY. 


CHATEAUBRIAND. 

That  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory  opens  to  the  Christian 
poet  a  source  of  the  marvellous  which  was  unknown  to 
antiquity  will  be  readily  admitted.'  Nothing,  perhaps, 
is  more  favorable  to  the  inspiration  of  the  muse  than  this 
middle  state  of  expiation  between  the  region  of  bliss  and 
that  of  pain,  suggesting  the  idea  of  a  confused  mixture  of 
happiness  and  of  suffering.  The  graduation  of  the  pun- 
ishments inflicted  on  those  souls  that  are  more  or  less 
happy,  more  or  less  brilliant,  according  to  their  degree 
of  proximity  to  an  eternity  of  joy  or  of  woe,  affords  an 
impressive  subject  for  poetic  description.  In  this  respect, 
it  surpasses  the  subjects  of  heaven  and  hell,  because  it 
possesses  a  future  which  they  do  not. 

The  river  Lethe  was  a  graceful  appendage  of  the 
ancient  Elysium ;  but  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  shades 
which  came  to  life  again  on  its  banks  exhibited  the  same 
poetical  progress  in  the  way  to  happiness  that  we  behold 
in  the  souls  of  Purgatory.  When  they  left  the  abodes  of 
bliss  to  reappear  among  men,  they  passed  from  a  perfect 
to  an  imperfect  state.  They  re-entered  the  ring  for  the 
fight.  They  were  born  again  to  undergo  a  second  death. 
In  short,  they  came  forth  to  see  what  they  had  already 
seen  before.  Whatever  can  be  measured  by  the  human 
mind  is  necessarily  circumscribed.  We  may  admit, 
indeed,  that  there  was  something  striking  and  true  in  the 
circle  by  which  the  ancients  symbolized  eternity  ;  but  it 
seems  to  us  that  it  fetters  the  imagination  by  confining  it 
always  within  a  dreaded  enclosure.  The  straight  line  ex- 
tended ad  infinitiini  would,  perhaps,  be  more  expressive, 
because  it  would  carry  our  thoughts  into  a  w^orld  of  un- 

'  Some  trace  of  this  dogma  is  to  be  found  in  Plato  and  in  the  doctrine  of 
Zeno.  (See  Diog.  Laer.)  The  poets  also  appear  to  have  had  some  idea  of 
it  (^neid,  v.  vi.},  but  these  notions  urc  all  vague  and  inconsequent. 


THOUGHTS   OF  VARIOUS   AUTHORS. 


3^5 


Christian 

known  to 

perhaps, 

than  this 

■  bliss  and 
lixturc  of 

■  the  pun- 
re  or  less 
ir  degree 
iffords  an 
is  respect, 
)ecause   it 

^G   of  the 
be  shades 
he  same 
e  behold 
abodes  of 
a  perfect 
cr  for  the 
ind  death, 
d  already 
ic  human 
y    admit, 
rue  in  the 
y  ;  but  it 
mfining  it 
it  line  ex- 
:pressive, 
Id  of  un- 

doctrinc  of 
some  idea  of 
lient. 


t 


defined  realities,  and  would  bring  together  three  things 
which  appear  to  exclude  each  other— hope,  mobility, 
eternity. 

The  apportionment  of  the  punishment  to  the  sin  is  an- 
other source  of  invention  which  is  found  in  the  purgatorial 

state,  and  is  highly  favorable  to  the  sentimental 

If  violent  winds,  raging  fires,  and  icy  cold,  lend  their  in- 
fluence to  the  torments  of  hell,  why  may  not  milder 
sufferings  be  derived  from  the  song  of  the  nightingale, 
from  the  fragrance  of  flowers,  from  the  murmur  of  the 
brook,  or  from  the  moral  affections  themselves?  Homer 
and  Ossian  tell  us  of  the  joy  of  grief  opvepov  rerapTTU) 
(leaOayoAo. 

Poetry  finds  its  advantage  also  in  that  doctrine  of  Pur- 
gatory which  teaches  us  that  the  prayers  and  other  good 
works  of  the  faithful  may  obtain  the  deliverance  of  souls 
from  their  temporal  pains.  How  admirable  is  this  inter- 
course between  the  living  son  and  the  deceased  father — 
between  the  mother  and  daughter — between  husband  and 
wife — between  life  and  death.  What  affecting  considera- 
tions are  suggested  by  this  tenet  of  religion  !  My  virtue, 
insignificant  being  as  I  am,  becomes  the  common  property 
of  Christians ;  and,  as  I  participate  in  the  guilt  of  Adam, 
so  also  the  good  that  I  possess  passes  to  the  good  of 
others.  Christian  poets !  the  prayers  of  your  Nisus  will 
be  felt,  in  their  happy  effects,  by  some  Euryalus  beyond 
the  grave.  The  rich,  whose  charity  you  describe,  may 
well  share  their  abundance  with  the  poor,  for  the  pleasure 
which  they  take  in  performing  this  simple  and  grateful 
act  will  receive  its  reward  from  the  Almighty  in  the  re- 
lease of  their  parents  from  the  expiatory  flame.  Wliat  a 
beautiful  feature  in  our  religion  to  impel  the  heart  of  man 
to  virtue  by  the  power  of  love,  and  to  make  him  feel  that 
the  very  coin  which  gives  bread  for  the  moment  to  an  in- 
digent fellow-being,  entitles,  perhaps,  some  rescurxl  soul 
to  an  eternal  position  at  the  table  of  the  Lord.^ 


1 « 


Genius  of  Christianity."     Buck  II.,  Chap.  xv.  pp.  338-340. 


•P  '■  : 


III 


m 


316 


rUKGATOKY. 


MARY  AND   THE  FAITHFUL   DEPARTED. 


BY   BROTHER   AZARIAS. 


Mary,  from  her  nearness  to  Jesus,  lias  imbibed  many 
traits  ot  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus.  wShe  shares,  in  a  pre- 
eminent deu^ree,  His  Divino  compassion  for  sorrow  and 
sufferin<r.  Where  He  lov^es  and  pities,  she  also  loves  and 
pities.  Nay,  may  we  not  well  say  that  all  endurinj^-  an- 
guish of  soul  and  writhini^  under  the  panics  of  a  lacerated 
heart,  arc  especially  dear  to  both  Jesus  and  Mary?  Was 
not  Jesus  the  Man  of  Sorrows?  and  did  He  not  constitute 
Mary  the  Mother  of  sufferini^  and  sorrowing  humanity  ? 
And  even  as  His  Divine  breast  knew  keenest  sorrow,  did 
not  a  sword  of  sorrow  pierce  her  soul?  She  participated 
in  the  agony  of  Jesus  only  as  such  a  Mother  can  share 
the  agony  of  such  a  Son ;  in  the  tcnderest  manner,  there- 
fore, does  she  commiserate  sc^rrow  and  suffering  wher- 
ever found.  Though  now  far  beyond  all  touch  of  pain  and 
misery,  still  as  the  devoted  Mother  of  a  |)ain-stricken  race, 
she  continues  to  watch,  to  shield,  to  aid  and  to  strengthen 
her  children  in  their  wrestlings  with  these  mysterious 
visitants. 

II. 

Nor  docs  Mary's  interest  cease  upon  this  side  of  the 
grave.  It  accompanies  souls  beyond.  And  when  she 
beholds  those  souls  undergoing  their  final  purgation, 
before  entering  u])on  the  enjoyment  of  the  beatific  vision, 
she  pities  them  with  a  pity  all  the  more  heartfelt  because 
their  suffering  is  so  much  greater  than  any  they  could 
have  endured  in  this  life.  Sec  the  state  of  those  souls. 
They  are  in  grace  and  favor  with  God ;  they  are  burning 
with  love  for  Him  ;  they  arc  yearning,  with  a  yearning 
boundless  in  its  intensity,  to  drink  refreshment  of  life,  and 
love,  and  sanctification,  and  to  be  replenished  with  good- 
ness and  truth,  and  to  perfect  their  natures  at  the 
Fountain-head  of  all  truth,  all  goodness,  all  love,  and  all 


TflO,      IITS  OF  VARIOUS   AUTHORS. 


317 


bed  many 
5,  in  a  prc- 
irrow  and 
loves  and 
luring^  an- 
L  lacerated 
ry  ?  Was 
constitute 
[uimanity  ? 
DiTow,  did 
irticipated 
can  share 
ner,  there- 
in <^  wher- 
dF pain  and 
cken  race, 
strenj^then 
nysterious 


ide  of  the 

when  she 

purgation, 

ific  vision, 

;lt  because 

hey  could 

lose  souls. 

re  burning 

I  yearning 

of  life,  and 

ivith  good- 

es   at   the 

ve,  and  all 


0» 


perfection.  The\  are  y  irning;  but  so  t  "t  ,y  And 
piercingly  does  tli  ■  white  1  ^ht  ot  <  »od's  triitli  ..i«/f  G'»d's 
holiness  shine  through  them  and  p  i-tratJ  ery  1  'd  and 
recess  of  their  moral  natures,  an  '  reveal  «>  them  every 
slightest  imperfection,  that  thev  ■  are  not  approach  llim 
and  gratify  their  intense  desire  to  be  united  with  llim. 
Their  weaknesses  and  imi)erfections ;  the  traces  in  them 
of,  and  the  attachments  in  them  to,  former  sins,  incident 
upon  the  frailties  of  feeble  human  nature,  still  cling  to 
them,  and  must  needs  be  consumed  in  the  hery  ordeal  of 
suffering  before  their  enjoyment  of  the  beatific  vision  can 
be  completed  and  their  union  with  the  Godhead  con- 
summated. 

III. 

That  there  should  be  for  souls  after  death  such  a  state 
of  purgation  is  all  within  the  grasp  of  human  reason.  It 
is  a  doctrine  that  was  taught  in  tiie  remotest  ages  of  the 
world.  Here  is  a  condensed  version  of  the  tradition  as 
handed  down  in  clearest  terms,  beautifully  expressed  by 
one  of  the  world's  greatest  thinkers  and  writers :  *'  All 
things  are  distinctly  manifest  in  the  soul  after  it  has  been 
divested  of  the  body  ;  and  this  is  true  both  of  the  natural 
disposition  of  the  soul  and  of  the  affections  that  the  man 
has  acquired  from  his  various  pursuits.  When  therefore 
the  soul  comes  before  the  Judge  .  .  .  the  Judge  hnds 
all  things  distorted  through  pride  and  falsehood  and 
whatsoever  is  unrighteous,  for  as  much  as  the  soul  has 
been  nurtured  with  untruth  .  .  .  and  he  forthwith 
sends  it  to  a  prison  state  where  it  will  undergo  the 
punishment  it  deserves.  But  it  behooveth  that  he  that  is 
punished,  if  he  be  justly  punished,  either  become  better 
and  receive  benefit  from  his  punishment,  or  become  a 
warning  to  others.  .  .  .  But  ivJioso  arc  benefited  .  .  . 
are  such  as  Jiavc  been  guilty  of  C2irable  transgressions  ;  their 
benefit  here  and  hereafter  ^  accrues  to  tJieni  through  pains 
and  torments  ;  for  it  is  impossible  to  get  rid  of  injustice  by 


t 


• 


*f 


t   , 


k 


3'8 


rURC.ATORY. 


oZ/wr  inauncr  of  means'''  This  reads  like  a  pap^e  lorn  from 
one  oltlic  early  I'athcrs  of  the  Cluireli.'  More  than  five 
centuries  before  tlie  Christian  era  it  was  penned  by 
I'lato.-  Clearly  does  he  draw  the  line  between  eternal 
punishment  for  unrepented  crimes  and  temporal  punish- 
ment for  curable  Idoiim  tranjj^ressions.  Virj^il  in  no  un- 
certain tone  echoes  the  same  doctrine,  makin<^  no 
exception  to  the  rule  that  some  corporeal  stains  and  traces 
of  ill  follow  all  beyond  the  jj^rave  ;  tr/u/  tluri'forc  do  they 
suffer  pnnishnieut  and  pay  the  penalty  of  ohi  zvrongs?"  W  h  at 
antiquity  has  handed  down,  and  reason  has  found  to  be 
just  and  proper,  th.c  Church  has  defined  and  decreed. 
She  has  j^onc  further.  Siic  has  supplemented  and  com- 
pleted the  pat^an  conception  of  expiation  by  that  of 
intercession ;  and  she  has  added  thereto,  for  the  comfort 
and  consolation  of  the  livinjx  and  the  dead,  that  the  souls 
so  sufierin<j  "  may  be  heli)ed  by  the  suffrages  of  the  faith- 
ful, but  principally  by  the  acceptable  Sacrifice  of  the 
Altar."  ^  And  in  her  prayers  for  deceased  friends,  relatives 
and  benefactors,  she  is  mindful  of  Mary's  sweet  inlluencc 
with  her  Son,  and  asks  their  deliverance  through  her  in- 
tercession.^ 

The  tendency  to  commune  with  the  dead,  and  to  pray 
for  them,  is  strong  and  universal.  It  survives  whatever 
systems  or  whatever  creeds  men  may  invent  for  its  sup- 
pression. Samuel  Johnson  is  professedly  a  staunch 
Protestant,  bristling  with  prejudices,  but  a  delicate  moral 
sense  enters  the  rugged  manhood  of  his  nature.  In- 
stinctively he  seeks  to  commune  with  his  departed  wife, 
after  the  manner  dear  to  the  Catholic  heart,  but  forbidden 
to  the  Protestant.  He  keeps  the  anniversary  of  her  death. 
He  composes  a  prayer  for  the  repose  of  her  soul,  beseech- 

^  There  is  a  passage  in  Clement  of  Alexandria,  not  unlike  this  in  state- 
ment of  the  same  doctrine  ("  Stromaton  "  1.  vi.  m.  14,  p.  794.  Ed.  Potter). 
The  passage  is  quoted  in  "  Faith  of  Catholics."     Vol.  III.  p.  142. 

*  Gorgias,  cap.  Ixxx.,  Ixxxi. 

3  yEneid,  lib.  vi.  735,  740, 

^  Council  of  Trent,  Sess.  xxv.  Decret.  de  Purgatorio,  p.  204. 

^  Beala  Maria  semper  virgine  interccdente. 


Hi 


ini  from 
han   five 
iiR'tl    by 
eternal 
punisii- 
no  im- 
:in<;    no 
(I  traces 
'  do  ilicy 
What 
id  to  be 
Iccrecd. 
k1  com- 
that   of 
comfort 
lie  souls 
10  faith- 
of  the 
elativcs 
illuencc 
her  in- 
to pray 
hatevcr 
its  sup- 
staunch 
e  moral 
re.     In- 
:d  wife, 
rbidden 
r  death, 
eseech- 

5  in  statc- 
1.  Potter). 


TiK)rr.iiTs  or  various  authors. 


3^9 


ln_i^  God   "to  i^rant  l\er  whatever  is   best    in   her  pnsent 
state,  and  fmally  to  receive  her  to  eternal  happiness.' 

IV. 

Oftiie  nature  and  intensity  oftiie  sufferiiiL^s  of  souls 
underi^oin;^  this  i)uri;ation,  we  on  earth  can  form  but 
the  faintest  conception.  Not  so  Mary.  She  sees  thin<;s 
as  they  arc.  She  sees  the  preat  love  animatinj.:^  tliosc 
h(jly  soids.  She  sees  their  eaj^er  desire  to  be  united  to 
God,  the  sole  centre  antl  object  of  their  beiuL;'.  vShe  sees 
and  appreciates  the  strujj^j^le  ^oini^  on  in  them  between 
that  intense  desire — that  threat  yearnin<:^  that  j^ropiuij^ 
after  perfect  luiion — that  unfilled  antl  unsatiated  vagueness 
arisinj^  from  their  j)rivation  of  the  only  fulness  that  could 
replenish  them,  on  the  one  hand,  aiul  on  the  other,  the 
sense  of  their  unfitness,  keen,  stronu^,  deep,  intense,  over- 
whelminL!^  them  and  drivini^  them  back  to  the  llames  of 
pain  and  soul-hunp^er  and  soul-tiiirst  until  they  shall  have 
satisfied  Ciod's  justice  to  the  last  farthing-,  and  even  the 
slig-htest  stain  has  been  cleansed,  and  they  stand  forth  in 
the  light  of  God's  sanctity,  whole  and  spotless.  She  sees 
the  terrible  struggle  ;  and  her  motherly  heart  goes  out  in 
tender  pity  to  these  her  children,  washed  and  ransomed 
by  the  lUood  of  her  Divine  Son,  and  she  is  well  disposed 
to  extend  to  them  the  aid  of  her  powerful  intercession. 
She  is  fitly  called  the  Mother  of  Mercy.  Her  merciful 
heart  goes  out  to  these,  the  favored  ones  of  her  Son,  all 
the  more  lovingly  and  tenderly  because  they  arc  unable 
to  help  themselves. 

V. 

But  whilst  Mary  looks  upon  those  souls  with  an  eye  of 
tender  mercy  and  sweet  compassion,  and  whilst  Jesus  is 
prepared  to  admit  them  to  the  beatific  vision  as  soon  as 

'  BoswcU's  Johnson,  vol.  i,  p,  loo.  Crokcr's  Ed.  There  is  pathos  in  this 
entry,  remembering  the  man  :  "Mar.  23,  1753.  I  kept  this  day  as  the  an- 
niversary of  my  Tetly's  death,  with  prayer  and  tears  in  tlie  morning.  In  the 
evening  I  prayed  for  her  conditionally,  if  it  were  lawful."    Ihid.  p.  97. 


ji  (jiiiifrTij  fillf « iitffiiBii 


-.titttmm^itmmrv  <, 


320 


rURGATORY. 


they  become  tlioroiiq;]i]y  purified,  still  the  assuagincf  of 
their  pains  and  tlie  abridgin*^'  ot  their  time  of  purgation 
depend  in  a  great  measure  upon  tlie  graces  and  the  merits 
that  are  ap})lied  to  them  by  us,  their  brethren  upon  earth. 
According  to  the  earnestness  of  the  prayers  wc  say  for 
them,  and  the  measure  of  the  good  works  we  do  for  them, 
will  the  intercession  of  Mary  and  all  the  saints  be  effica- 
cious with  Jesus  in  their  behalf.     It  is  unspeakably  con- 
soling to  the  living  and  the  dead  to  know  that  the  mem- 
bers  of  the  Church  militant  upon  earth  have  it  within 
their   power   to   aid   and    relieve    the    members   of    the 
Church  suffering.    It  is  therefore  really  and  indeed  a  holy 
and  a  wholesome  thought  for  us  of  the  one  to  pray  for 
those  of  the  other.     It  is  more  :  it  is  an  imperative  duty 
*  we  owe  the  faithful  departed.     They  are  our  brethren 
in  Christ,  bought  at  the  same  price,  nurtured  by  the  same 
graces,  living  by  the  same  faith,  and  sanctified  by  the 
same  spirit.    Many  of  them  may  have  been  near  and  dear 
to  us  in  this  life ;  and  of  these,  many  again  may  now  suf- 
fer because   of  us ;    whether   it  was   that  we  led    them 
directly  into  wrong-doing,  or  whether  it  was  that,  in  their 
loving  kindness  for  us,  they  connived  at,  permitted,  aided 
or  abetted  us,  in  what  their  consciences  had  whispered 
them  not  to  be  right.     In  each  and  every  case  it  is  our 
bounden  duty  to  do  all  in  our  power  to  assuage  sufferings 
to  which  we  may  have  been  accessory.     In  heart-rending 
accents  do  they  cry  out  to  us  :  "  Hazr  pity  on  inc,  have 
pity  on  inc,  at  least  yc  my  friends  I""  ^     And  as  we  would 
have  others  do  by  us  under  like  circumstances,  so  should 
we  not  turn  a  deaf  car  to  their  petition. 

VI. 

Daily  does  the  Angel  of  Death  enter  our  houses,  and 
summon  from  us  those  that  are  rooted  in  our  affections, 
and  for  whom  our  heart-throbs  beat  in  love  and  esteem. 
Daily  must  we  bow  our  heads  in  leverent  silence  and 
submission   to   the   decree  that  snatches  from  us  some 

'  Job,  xix.  21. 


i<i 


lAi 


agin 2:  of 
urgation 
le  merits 
on  earth. 
c  say  for 
"or  them, 
DC  cfHca- 
ibly  con- 
ic mcm- 
t  within 

of  the 
d  a  holy 
pray  for 
ivc  duty 
brethren 
:he  same 

by  the 
mcl  dear 

low  Sllf- 

d   them 

in  their 

d,  aided 

lispered 

:  is  our 

fferings 

rending 

;ic,  have 

would 

should 


;es,  and 
actions, 
esteem, 
ice  and 
s  some 


A 


w. 


THOUGHTS   OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS.  32  I 

loved  one.  Perhaps  it  is  a  wife  who  mourns  the  loss  of 
her  husband.  She  hnds  comfort  and  comjjanionshi})  in 
praying  for  the  rcjx)sc  of  his  soul ;  in  the  words  of  Ter- 
tullian,  "  she  prays  for  his  soul,  and  begs  lor  him  in  the 
interim  refreshments,  and  in  the  first  resurrection  com- 
panionship, and  maketh  offerings  on  the  anniversary  diiy 
of  his  falling  asleep."'  Perhaps  it  is  a  husband  whose 
loving  wife  has  gone  to  sleep  in  death.  Then  will  he  hold 
her  memory  sacred,  and  offer  thereto  the  incense  of  un- 
ceasing prayer,  so  that  it  may  be  said  of  iiim  as  St.  Je- 
rome wrote  to  Pammachius  :  "  Thou  hast  rendered  what 
was  due  to  each  part;  giving  tears  to  the  body  and 
alms  to  the  soul.  .  .  .  There  were  thy  tears  where 
thou  knewest  was  death ;  there  were  thy  works  where 
thou  knewest  was  life.  .  .  .  Already  is  she  honored 
with  thy  merits;  already  is  she  fed  with  thy  bread,  and 
abounds  with  thy  riches."  -  Perhaps  it  is  a  dear  friend 
around  whom  our  heart-strings  were  entwined,  and  whose 
love  for  us  was  more  than  we  were  worthy  of:  whose 
counsels  were  our  guide  ;  v/hose  soul  was  an  open  book 
in  which  we  daily  read  the  lesson  of  high  resolve  and 
sincere  purpose ;  whose  virtuous  life  was  a  continuous 
inspiration  urging  us  on  to  noble  thought  and  noble  deed  ; 
and  yet  our  friendship  may  have  bound  his  soul  in  ties 
too  earthly,  and  retarded  his  progress  in  perfection ;  in 
consequence  he  may  still  dread  the  light  of  God's  coun- 
tenance, and  may  be  lingering  in  this  state  of  purgation. 
It  behooves  us  in  all  earnestness,  and  in  friendship's 
sacred  claim,  to  pray  unceasingly  for  that  friend,  beseech- 
ing God  to  let  the  dews  of  Divine  mercy  fall  upon  liis 
parching  soul,  assuage  his  pain,  and  take  him  to  Him- 
self, to  complete  his  happiness. 

So  the  sacred  duty  of  prayer  for  the  dead  runs  through 
all  the  relations  of  life.  From  all  comes  the  cry  begging 
for  our  prayers.  We  cannot  in  justice  ignore  it;  wc 
cannot  be  true  to  ourselves  and  unmindful  of  our  suffcr- 

»  "  Dc  Monosam,"  n.  x.  p.  531.     "  Faith  of  Catholics,"  Vol.  HI.,  p.  144. 
'  En.  xxxvii. 


I! 


il 


1; 


( 


1 


■ax 


.jsffi52 


l^Wmmmsim 


*S'i'«j-Ji6i*#ij 


■MMMH 


322 


PURGATORY. 


ing  brethren.  Every  reminder  that  wc  receive  is  a  voice 
coming  from  the  grave.  Now  it  is  the  mention  of  a  name 
that  once  brought  gladness  to  our  hearts ;  or  we  come 
across  a  letter  written  by  a  hand  whose  grasp  used  to  thrill 
our  souls — that  hand  now  stiffened  and  cold  in  death ;  or 
it  is  the  sight  of  some  relic  that  vividly  recalls  the  dear 
one  passed  away ;  or  it  is  a  dream — and  to  whom  has  not 
such  a  dream  occurred  ? — in  which  we  live  over  again  the 
pleasant  past  with  the  bosom  friend  of  our  soul,  and  he  is 
back  once  more,  in  the  flesh,  ro-enacting  the  scenes  of 
former  days,  breathing  and  talking  as  naturally  as  though 
there  were  no  break  in  his  life  or  ours  and  we  had  never 
parted.  When  wc  awaken  from  our  dream,  and  the 
pang  of  reality,  like  a  keen  blade,  penetrates  our  hearts, 
let  us  not  rest  content  with  a  vain  sigh  of  regret,  or.  with 
useless  tears  of  grief;  let  us  pray  God  to  give  the  dear 
departed  soul  eternal  rest,  and  admit  it  to  the  perpetual 
light  of  His  Presence.  And  in  like  manner  should  we 
regard  all  other  reminders  as  so  many  appeals  to  the 
charity  of  our  prayers.  In  this  Vv'ay  will  the  keeping  of 
the  memory  of  those  gone  before  us  be  to  them  a  bless- 
ing and  to  us  a  consolation. 

VII. 

Furthermore,  every  prayer  we  say,  every  sacrifice  we 
make,  every  alms  wc  give  for  the  repose  ol  the  dear  de- 
parted ones,  will  all  return  upon  ourselves  in  hundredfold 
blessings.  They  arc  God's  choice  friends,  dear  to  His 
Sacred  Heart,  living  in  His  grace  and  in  constant  com- 
muning with  Him ;  and  though  they  ma}-  not  alleviate 
their  own  sufferings,  their  prayers  in  our  behalf  always 
avail.  They  can  aid  us  most  efficaciously.  God  will  not 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  their  intercession.  Being  holy  souls, 
they  are  grateful  souls.  The  friends  that  aid  them,  they 
in  turn  will  also  aid.  We  need  not  fear  praying  for 
them  in  all  faith  and  confidence.  They  will  obtain  for  us 
the  special  favors  we  desire.  They  will  watch  over  us 
lovingly  and  tenderly ;  they  will  guard  our  steps  ;  they 


f 


\ 


THOUGHTS   OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


323 


>  a  voice 
fa  name 
ve  come 
to  thrill 
::ath;  or 
the  dear 
has  not 
g-ain  the 
nd  he  is 
:enes  of 
though 
d  never 
md  the 
'  hearts, 
or.  with 
;he  dear 
irpetual 
)uld  we 
to  the 
pinq;  of 
a  bless- 


Ifice  we 
lear  de- 
red  fold 
to  His 
at  com- 
llcviate 
always 
kvill  not 
Y  souls, 
n, they 
ing  for 
1  for  us 
Dvcr  us 
; ;  they 


I 


\ 


will  warn  us  against  evil ;  they  will  shield  us  in  moments 
of  trial  and  danger ;  and  when  our  day  of  purgatorial 
suffering  comes,  they  will  use  their  influence  in  our  be- 
half to  assuage  our  pains  and  shorten  the  period  of  our 
separation  from  the  Oodhcad.  And  so  may  we,  in  con- 
stant prayer,  begging  in  a  special  manner  the  interces- 
sion of  Mary  the  Mother  of  Mercy,  say  to  our  Lord  and 
Saviour:  '■'■Deliver  the  in  from  gloom  and  darkness,  and 
snatch  them  from  sorroiu  and  grief ;  enter  not  into  judgment 
with  them,  nor  severely  examine  their  past  life  ;  but  whether 
in  word  or  deed  they  have  sinned,  as  men  elothed  ivith  Jlesh, 
forgive  and  do  away  zoith  their  transgressions,''  ^ 


DR.    JOHNSON    ON    PRAYERS    FOR    THE    LEAD. 

BOSWELL.  What  do  you,  think,  sir,  of  Purgatory,  as 
believed  by  the  Roman  CathoUcs  ? 

Johnson.  Why,  sir,  it  is  a  very  harmlesss  doctrine. 
They  are  of  opinion  that  the  generality  of  mankind  arc 
neither  so  obstinately  wicked  as  to  deserve  everlasting 
punishment,  nor  so  good  as  to  merit  being  admitted  into 
the  society  of  blessed  spirits  ;  and  therefore  that  God  is 
graciously  pleased  to  allow  of  a  middle  state,  where  they 
may  be  purified  by  certain  degrees  of  suffering.  You 
see,  sir,  that  there  is  nothing  unreasonable  in  this. 

BosWELL.  But  then,  sir,  their  Masses  for  the  dead  ? 

Johnson.  Why,  sir,  if  it  be  once  established  that  there 
are  souls  in  Purgatory,  it  is  as  proper  to  pray  for  them 
as  for  our  brethren  of  mankind  who  are  yet  in  this  life. 

BoswELL.  The  idolatry  of  the  Mass? 

Johnson.  Sir,  there  is  no  idolatry  in  the  Mass.  They 
believe  God  to  be  there,  and  they  adore  Him. 

vV  ->«■  ^M  *  ^  -k  -7: 

BoswELL.  We  see  in  Scripture  that  Dives  still  retained 
an  anxious  concern  about  his  brethren  ? 

*  From  prayer  for  ihe  Faithful  Departed  in  tlic  S)'rlac  Liturr^y.  See 
"  Faith  of  Catholics,"  Vol.  III.  p.  203. 


^?*^f*^****«*i**8«^4«i5«^^^ 


'^■.  i 


324 


rURGATORY. 


Johnson.  Why,  sir,  wc  must  cither  suppose  that  pas- 
sage to  be  metaphorical,  or  hold  with  many  divines,  and 
all  purg-atorians,  that  departed  souls  do  not  all  at  once 
arrive  at  the  utmost  perfection  of  which  they  are  capable. 

■'A-  vr  -v^  v:-  w  %♦  w 

BOSWELL.  Do  you  think,  sir,  it  is  wrong  in  a  man  who 
holds  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory  to  pray  for  the  souls  of 
his  deceased  friends  ? 

Johnson.  Why,  no,  sir. 

*  *  *  -:t  *  *  * 

He  states  that  he  spent  March  22,  1753,  in  prayers 
and  tears  in  the  morning ;  and  in  the  cvenmg  prayed  for 
the  soul  of  his  deceased  wife,  "  conditionally,  if  it  be  law- 
ful." The  following  is  his  customary  prayer  for  his  dead 
wife:  "  And,  O  Lord,  so  far  as  it  may  be  lawful  in  me,  I 
commend  to  Thy  fatherly  goodness  the  soul  of  my  de- 
parted wife ;  beseeching  Thee  to  gront  her  whatever  is 
best  in  her  present  state,  and  finally  to  receive  her  into 
eternal  happiness." — BoswelCs  ^^ Life  of  JoJuison^'  Pages 
169,  188. 


lat  pas- 
ics,  and 
it  once 
capable. 

an  who 
ouls  of 


)raycrs 
yed  for 
be  law- 
is  dead 
1  mc,  I 
my  de^ 
ever  is 
ler  into 
Pages 


\ 


THOUGHTS   OF  VARIOUS   AUTHORS.  325 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF    PURGATORY. 

lilRNETr.' 

The  Council  of  Trent  declared,  as  the  faith  of  tlie 
Catholic  Church,"///^?/  //u-fr  is  a  Purgatory ,  and  that  the 
souls  there  detained  are  helped  by  the  suffrages  of  the  faith- 
ful^ but  prineipally  by  the  aeeep  table  sacrifiee  of  the  altar  J" 

This  is  all  that  is  required  to  be  believed.     As  to  the 
kind    and    measure    of    the   purifyini^    punishment,    the 
Church  defines   nothing".     This  doctrine   has   been  very 
much  misrepresented,  and  has  most  generally  been  at- 
tacked by  sarcasm  and  denunciation.     But  is  this  a  satis- 
factory method  to  treat  a  grave  matter  of  faith,  coming 
down  to  us  from  the  olden  times?     The  doctrine  of  Pur- 
gatory is  most  intimately  connected  with  the  doctrine  of 
sacramental  absolution  and  satisfaction,  and  legitimately 
springs  from  it.     That  there  is  a  distinction  in  the  guilt 
of  different  sins,   must  be   conceded.     All   our  criminal 
laws,  and  those  of  all  nations,  are  founded  upon  this  idea. 
To  say  that  the  smallest  transgression,  the  result  of  inad- 
vertence, is  equal  in  enormity  to  the  greatest  and  most 
deliberate  crime,  is  utterly  opposed  to  the  plain  nature 
of  all  law,  and  to  the  word  of  God,  which  assures  us  that 
men  shall  be  punished  or  rewarded  according  to  their 
works  (Rom.  ii.  6),  as  not  to  require  any  refutation.     Our 
T.ord  assures  us  that  men  must  give  an  account  in  the 
day  of  judgment  for  every  idle  word  they  speak  (Matt. 
xii.  36),  and  St.  John  tells  us  that  nothing  defiled  shall 
enter  heaven  (Rev.  xxi.  27).     Then  St.  John  says  there  is 
a  sin  unto  death,  and  there  is  a  sin  which  is  not  unto 
death  (i  John,  v.  16),  and  he  also  tells  us  that  "all  un- 
righteousness is  sin  ;  and  there  is  a  sin  not  unto  death." 
So  we  are  told  by  the  same  apostle,  that  if  we  confess 
our  sins,  God  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  (i  John, 
i.  9). 

'  ti^,?^:'  his  work,  "  The  Path  which  Led  a  Protestant  Lawyer  to  the  Cath- 
olic Church,"  p.  637. 


i   I 

il 


i  .'■ 


..jiHr; 


^^^■^nmmmmm&i^mm. 


326 


PURGATORY. 


Now  wc  must  put  all  these  texts  together,  and  give 
them  their  full,  harmonious,  and  consistent  force.  We 
must  carry  out  the  principles  laid  down  to  their  fair  and 
logical  results.  Suppose,  then,  a  man  speak  an  idle  word, 
and  die  suddenly,  before  he  has  time  to  repent  and  con- 
fess his  sin,  will  he  be  lost  everlastingly  ?  Must  there 
not,  in  the  very  nature  of  Christ's  system,  be  a  middle 
state,  wherein  souls  can  be  purged  from  their  lesser  sins  ? 


MALLOCK  ON   PURGATORY. 


To  those  who  believe  in  Purgatory,  to  pray  for  the 
dead  is  as  natural  and  rational  as  to  pray  for  the  living. 
Next,  as  to  this  doctrine  of  Purgatory  itself — which  has 
so  long  been  a  stumbling-block  to  the  whole  Protestant 
world — time  goes  on,  and  the  view  men  take  of  it  is 
changing.  It  is  becoming  fast  recognized  on  all  sides 
that  it  is  the  only  doctrine  that  can  bring  a  belief  in 
future  rewards  and  punishments  into  anything  like  ac- 
cordance with  our  notions  of  what  is  just  or  reasonable. 
So  far  from  its  being  a  superfluous  superstition,  it  is  seen 
to  be  just  what  is  demanded  at  once  by  reason  and  moral- 
ity, and  a  belief  in  it  to  be  not  an  intellectual  assent,  but 
a  partial  harmonizing  of  the  whole  moral  ideal. —  IV.  If. 
Mallock,  ''Is  Life  Worth  Living^'  Page  297. 

1  William  Iluircll  Mallock,  the  author  of  "Is  Life  Worth  Living,"  fiom 
which  this  extract  is  given,  and  of  several  other  recent  works,  was,  at  the 
time  when  the  above  was  written,  as  he  says  himself  in  his  dedication,  "an 
outsider  in  philosophy,  literature,  and  theology,"  and  not,  as  might  be  sup- 
posed, a  Catholic.  It  has  been  positively  asserted,  and  as  positively  denied, 
that  he  has  since  entered  the  Church.  But  it  is  certain  that  he  has  not  done 
so.    Mallock  is  not  a  Catholic— Compiler's  Note. 


\ . 


i 


THOUGHTS   OF   VARIOUS   AUTHORS. 


327 


BOIIEAU-DESPREAUX  AND  PRAYER  FOR  THE  DEAD.   , 

We  love  to  sec  the  truth  of  our  dogmas  proclaimed 
from  amid  the  great  assembUes  of  choice  inteUigences. 
Boileau  did  ncjt  hesitate  to  do  homage  to  the  CatlioUc 
doctrine  of  Purgatory  on  the  following  solemn  occasion  : — 


1:| 


'  fiom 

at  the 

on,  "  an 

be  sup- 

denied, 

lot  done 


On  the  death  of  Fureticre,  the  French  Academy  delib- 
erated whether  they  would  have  a  funeral  service  for 
him,  according  to  the  ancient  custom  of  the  establish- 
ment. Despreaux,  who  had  taken  no  part  in  the  expul- 
sion of  his  former  associate,  gave  expression,  when  he 
was  no  more,  to  the  language  of  courageous  piety,  lie 
feared  not  to  express  himself  in  these  words:  "Gentle- 
men, there  are  three  things  to  be  considered  here — God, 
the  public,  and  the  vVcademy.  As  regards  God,  lie  will, 
undoubtedly,  be  well  pleased  if  you  sacrifice  your  resent- 
ment for  His  sake  and  offer  prayers  to  Him  for  the  repose 
of  a  fellow-member,  who  has  more  need  of  them  than 
others,  were  it  only  on  account  of  the  animosity  he 
showed  towards  you.  Before  the  public,  it  will  be  a  glo- 
rious thing  for  you  not  to  pursue  your  enemy  beyond 
the  grave.  And  as  for  the  A.cademy,  its  moderation  will 
be  meritorious,  when  it  answers  insults  by  prayers,  and 
does  not  deny  a  Christian  the  resources  offered  by  the 
Church  for  appeasing  the  anger  of  God,  all  the  more  that, 
besides  the  indispensable  obligation  of  praying  to  God 
for  your  enemies,  you  have  made  for  yourselves  a  special 
law  to  pray  for  your  associates." 


I '1 


liii 


'II 


.^isefefjgj?^^ 


<»*»;«»«*■><  1 1  I'luJiii 


LUtaKMtMMiUau..,' 


328 


PURGATORY. 


ALL    SAINTS    AND    ALL    SOULS.  > 

MRS.    J.    SADI.IER. 

Of  all  the  sublime  truths  which  it  is  the  pride  and  hap- 
piness of  Christians  to  believe,  none  is  more  beautiful, 
more  consoling-  than  that  of  the  Communion  of  Saints. 
Do  we  fully  realize  the  meaning  of  that  particular  article 
of  our  faith  ?  From  their  earliest  infancy  Christian  chil- 
dren repeat,  at  their  mother's  knee,  "  I  believe  in  the 
Communion  of  Saints  ; ''  but  it  is  only  when  the  mind  has 
attained  a  certain  stage  of  development  that  they  begin 
to  feel  the  inestimable  privilege  of  being  in  the  Com- 
munion of  Saints. 

But  how  sad  to  think  that  even  in  later  life  many  01 
those  whose  childhood  lisped  "  1  believe  in  the  Com- 
munion of  Saints,"  neither  know,  nor  care  to  know,  what 
it  means.  Outside  the  Church  who  believes  in  the  Com- 
munion of  Saints? — who  rejoices  in  the  glory  of  the  glo- 
rified, or  invokes  their  intercession  with  God  ?  Who 
believes  in  that  state  of  probation  whereby  the  earth- 
stains  arc  washed  from  the  souls  of  men?  Who  has 
compassion  on  "the  spirits  who  are  in  prison?"  To 
Catholics  only  is  the  Communion  of  Saints  a  reality,  a 
soul-rejoicing  truth.  How  inestimable  is  the  privilege 
of  being  truly  and  indeed  "  of  the  household  of  faith," — 
within  and  of  '*  the  Church  of  the  Saints,"  the  Church 
that  alone  connects  the  life  which  is  and  that  which  is  to 
come,  the  living  and  the  dead  ! 

Year  by  year  we  are  reminded  of  this  truth,  so  solemn 
and  so  beautiful,  the  Communion  of  Saints,  by  the  double 
festival  of  All  Saints  and  All  Souls — when  the  Church 
invites  her  children  of  the  Militant  Church  to  rejoice 
with  her  on  the  glory  of  her  Saints,  and  to  pray  with  her 
for  the  holy  dead  who  are  still  in  the  purgatorial  fire  that 

'  New  York   7'a/'/c'/,  Nov.  12,  1870 


dk> 


THOUGHTS   OF   VARIOUS   AUTHORS. 


3-9 


is  to  prepare  them  for  that  blessed  abode  into  which 
"  nothing  dehled  can  enter." 

Grand  and  joyous  is  the  feast  of  the  Saints,  when  we 
lovini^ly  honor  all  our  brethren  who  have  j^ained  theii* 
thrones  in  Heaven,  and  with  faith  and  hope  invoke  their 
l)()werful  aid,  that  we,  too,  may  come  where  they  are, 
and  be  partakers  in  their  eternal  blessedness  ;  solemn  and 
sad,  but  most  sweetly  soothinj^'  to  the  heart  of  faith,  is 
the  day  of  All  Souls,  when  the  altars  are  draped  in  black, 
and  the  chant  is  mournful,  and  sacrihce  is  offered,  the 
wliole  world  over,  for  the  dead  who  have  slept  in  Cluist, 
with  the  blessing  of  the  Church  upon  them.  For  them, 
if  they  still  have  need  of  succor,  are  all  tlie  good  works 
of  the  faithful  offered  up,  and  the  prayers  of  all  the  Saints 
and  all  the  Angels  inv(jked,  not  only  on  the  second  day 
of  N(^vember,  but  on  every  day  of  that  mournful  month. 

Thus  do  we,  who  are  still  on  earth,  honor  the  glorified 
Saints  of  God,  and  invoke  them  for  ourselves  and  for  the 
blessed  souls  who  may  yet  be  debarred  from  the  joys  of 
Heaven.  And  this  is  truly  the  Communion  of  Saints — 
the  Church  on  earth,  the  Church  in  Heaven,  the  Churcli 
in  Purgatory,  distinct,  yet  united,  the  children  of  one 
common  Father,  who  is  God  ;  of  one  common  M(jther, 
who  is  Mary,  the  Virgin  ever  Blessed. 


LEIBNITZ'    ON    THE    MASS    AS   A   PROPITIATORY   SAC- 
RIFICE. 

No  new  efficacy  is  superadded  to  the  efficacy  of  the 
Passion  from  this  propitiatory  vSacrifice,  repeated  for  tlie 
remission  of  sins ;  but  its  entire  efficacy  consists  in  the 
representation  and  application  of  the  first  bloody  Sacri- 
fice, the  fruit  of  wdiich  is  tlie  Divine  Grace  bestowed  on 
all  those  who,  being  present  at  this  tremendous  sacrifice, 

'  Gottfried  Wilhclm  von  Leibnitz,  the  eminent  Protestant  philosopher. 
The  above  is  from  his  "  Systema  Thcologicum." 


MSJKSJi  i3ft.«».S»»«B,i)SS*  *«*.«•  1  .*4!il»;«i^fw 


SOB 


330 


rURGATORY. 


worthily  celebrate  the  oblation  in  unison  with  the  priest. 
And  since,  in  addition  to  the  remission  of  eternal  punish- 
ment, and  the  <^ilt  of  the  merits  of  Christ  for  the  hope  of 
eternal  life,  we  further  ask  of  God,  for  ourselves  and 
others,  both  liviui^  and  dead,  many  otiier  salutary  gifts 
(and  amongst  those,  the  chief  is  the  mitigation  of  that 
paternal  chastisement  which  is  due  to  every  sin,  even 
though  the  penitent  be  restored  to  favor) ;  it  is  therefore 
clearly  manifest  that  there  is  nothing  in  our  entire  wor- 
ship more  precious  than  the  sacritice  of  this  Divine  Sac- 
rament, in  which  the  Body  of  Our  Lord  itself  is  present. 


Af 


EXTRACTS   FROM   "A   TROUBLED   HEART." 


How  often  have  I  been  touched  at  the  respect  paid  the 
dead  in  Catholic  countries ;  at  the  reverence  with  which 
the  business  man,  hastening  to  fulfil  the  duties  of  the 
hour,  pauses  and  lifts  his  hat  as  the  funeral  of  the  un- 
known passes  him  in  the  street!  What  pity  streams  from 
the  eyes  of  the  poor  woman  who  kneels  in  her  humble 
doorway,  and,  crossing  herself,  prays  for  the  repose  of 
the  soul  that  was  never  known  to  her  in  this  life ;  but  the 
body  is  borne  towards  the  cemetery,  and  she  joins  her 
prayer  to  the  many  that  are  freely  offered  along  the 
solemn  way  (pp.  15 1-2). 

vV  -A-  -^  %  %  'A-  * 

So  passes  the  faithful  soul  to  judgment ;  after  which,  if 
not  ushered  at  once  into  the  ineffable  glory  of  the  Father, 
it  pauses  for  a  season  in  the  perpetual  twilight  of  that 
border-land  where  the  spirit  is  purged  of  the  very  mem- 
ory of  sin.  Even  as  Our  Lord  Himself  descended  into 
Limbo ;  as  He  died  for  us,  but  rose  again  from  the  dead 
and  ascended  into  heaven,  so  we  hope  to  rise  and  follow 
Him, — sustained  by  the  unceasing  prayers  of  the  Church, 
the  intercession  of  the  Saints,  and  all  the  choirs  of  the 
just,  who  are  called  on  night  and  day,  and  also  by  the 


.. 


THOUGHTS   OF   VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


331 


I  priest, 
punisli- 
hopc  ot 
cs  and 
•y  gifts 
of  that 
1,  even 
ercfore 
re  wor- 
iie  Sac- 
)resent. 


aiu  the 

L  whicli 

of  the 

he  im- 

Hs  from 

nimble 

:)ose  ot 

Dut  the 

ns  her 

ng  the 


lich,  if 
ather, 
)f  that 
mem- 
d  into 
e  dead 
follow 
hurch, 
of  the 
3y  the 


.. 


prayers  and  pleadings  of  those  who  have  loved  us,  and 
who  are  still  in  the  land  of  the  living. 

The  prayers  that  case  the  pangs  of  Pnrgatory,  the  AV- 
quicni,  the  Miserere^  the  Dc  Profu)idis — these  are  the  golden 
stairs  upon  which  the  soul  of  the  redeemed  ascends  into 
everlasting  joy.  Even  the  Protestant  l.iureate  of  luigland 
has  confessed  the  poetical  justice  and  truth  of  this,  and 
into  the  mouth  of  tlie  dying  Arthur— that  worthy  knight 
— he  puts  these  words  : 

"  Pray  for  my  soul !     More  thincjs  nrc  wmuiilit  hy  prayer 
'J'han  this  world  dreams  of;  wherefore  let  thy  voice- 
Rise  like  a  fountain  for  me  ni,y;lit  and  day; 
For,  what  are  men  better  than  slice i)  or  goats 
That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  l)rain, 
If,  knowing  CJod,  they  lift  not  hands  of  prayer 
Both  for  themselves  and  those  who  call  thcni  friend? 
For  so  the  whole  round  earth  is  every  way 
Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God."  ' 

O  ye  gentle  spirits  that  have  gone  before  me,  and  who 
are  now,  I  trust,  dwelling  in  the  gardens  of  Paradise,  be- 
side the  river  of  life  that  flows  through  the  midst  thereof, 
— ye  whose  names  I  name  at  the  Memorial  for  the  Dead 
in  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass, — as  ye  look  upon  the 
lovely  and  shining  countenances  of  the  elect,  and,  per- 
chance, upon  the  beauty  of  our  Heavenly  Ouccn,  and 
upon  her  Son  in  glory, — ()  remember  me  who  am  still 
this  side  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow,  and  in  the  midst  of 
trials  and  tribulations.  And  you  who  have  read  these 
pages,  written  from  the  heart,  after  much  sorrow  and 
long  suffering,  though  I  be  still  with  you  in  the  flesh,  or 
this  poor  body  be  gathered  to  its  long  home, — you  whose 
ej^es  are  now  fixed  upon  this  line,  I  beseech  you, 

Pray  for  iiic  !  — Anon. 

'  These  exquisite  lines  will  be  found  elsewhere  in  this  volume  in  the  full 
description  of  King  Arthur's  death  from  Tennyson.  But  thev  boar  repeti- 
tion. 


■L-IMt^^* 


•-wr»>«0|))tgiiii»|||'|,li      ,i« 


. 


332 


rUKUATORV. 


EUGENIE   DE   GUERIN   AND   HER   BROTHER  MAURICE. 

fill  Kii,i,'('nic  (Ic  CiUt'iiM's  jomiial  wi-  fiiul  the  folIovviiiL;  IxMiitiful  words 
wrillcn  wliilu  her  lovint;  licait  was  still  lilccclin,!,'  lor  llic  c.uly  tkalli  ol  li<  r 
bcst-lovcd  brother,  Maui  ice — her  twin  soul,  as  slie  was  wont  to  call  him.  J 

"()  rkoFU.NDrrY  !  ()  mysteries  of  tliat  otlicr  life  that 
scjxiratcs  us  !  I  who  was  always  so  anxious  about  him, 
who  wanted  so  much  to  know  evcrytiiiniL!;-,  wherever  lie 
may  be  now  there  is  an  end  to  tliat.  I  follow  him  into 
the  three  abodes ;  I  stop  at  that  of  bliss  ;  I  pass  on  to  the 
place  of  sufferinj;-,  the  j^ulf  of  fire.  My  (iod,  my  God, 
not  so!  Let  not  my  brother  be  there,  let  him  not!  He 
is  not  there.  What !  his  soul,  the  soul  of  Maurice,  amoni;- 
the  reprobate!  ....  Horrible  dread,  no  !  JJut  in 
Puri^atory,  })erhaps,  where  one  suffers,  where  one  expi- 
ates the  weaknesses  of  the  heart,  the  doubts  of  the  soul, 
the  half-inclinations  to  evil.  Perhai)s  my  brother  is 
there,  sufferiui^;-  and  callin^^  to  us  in  his  panics  as  he  used 
to  do  in  bodily  pain,  '  Relieye  me,  3'ou  who  love  me!' 
Yes,  my  friend,  by  prayer.  I  am  i^oinj^  to  pray.  1  have 
])rayed  so  much,  and  always  shall.  Prayer?  Oh,  yes, 
prayers  for  the  dead  ,  they  are  the  dew  of  l^irgatory." 

All  Souls — Mow  different  this  day  is  from  all  others,  in 
church,  in  the  soul,  without,  within.  It  is  impossible  to 
tell  all  one  feels,  thinks,  sees  again,  regrets.  There  is  no 
adequate  expression  for  all  this  except  in  prayer.  .  .  . 
I  have  not  \v'ritten  here,  but  to  some  one  to  whom  I  have 
promised  so  long  as  I  live,  a  letter  on  All  Souls'.     .     .     . 

0  my  friend,  my  brother,  Maurice  !  Maurice  !  art  thou 
far  from  me  ?  dost  thou  hear  me  ?  What  are  they,  those 
abodes  that  hold  thee  now  ?  .  .  .  .  Mysteries  of 
another  life,  how  profound,  how  terrible  ye  are — some- 
times, how  sweet ! 


* 


* 


»  r 


sh 


*  • 


w 


IIIULGIIIS   Oi-    \AKU)IS   AUTIKJUS.  J,^^ 


PASSAGES   FROM   THE   VIA   MEDIA. 

[Written  while  Cardinal  Newman  was  still  an  .\ni;li(.an.| 

'  Now,  as  to  tlic  ]>iinisli!iicnts  and  satisfactions  tor  sins, 
tlic  texts  to  which  liic  miiuis  ot  ti»c  carlv  cMuisliaiis  scciii 
t;)  iiavc  been  |)riiKij)allv  (h'awn,  aiul  iVotn  which  thi-v 
ventured  to  ari^uc  in  bciiaUOl  these  va^uc  notions,  were 
tliesc  two:  'The  lire  siiail  try  every  man's  work,'  etc.. 
and  '  lie  shall  l)ai)tize  yon  witli  the  lloly  (Ihost  and  witii 
tire.'  These  passajj^es,  with  which  many  more  were 
found  to  accord,  directed  their  thouii^hts  one  wav,  as 
niakini^  mention  of  lire,  whatever  was  meant  by  the 
word,  as  the  instrument  of  trial  and  purification  ;  and 
that,  at  some  time  between  the  ])resent  time  and  the 
Judj^ment,  or  at  the  Judj^ment.  .\s  the  doctrine,  thus 
su'j^ij^ested  by  certain  strikini^  texts,  ^rew  in  popularity 
and  defmitencss,  and  verj^ed  towards  its  present  Roman 
form,  it  seemed  a  key  to  many  others.  Great  portions  of 
the  books  of  I'salms,  Job,  and  the  Lamentations,  which 
express  the  feelings  of  religious  men  mulcr  sufferinij;-, 
would  })()werfully  recommend  it  by  the  forcible  and  most 
affectinj^  and  awful  meaninii^  which  they  received  from  it. 
When  this  was  once  suirirested,  all  oth.cr  meanin^fs  would 
seem  tame  and  inadcijuate. 

To  these  may  l)e  added  various  passages  from  the 
prophets,  as  that  in  the  beginning  of  the  third  chapter  of 
Malachi,  which  speaks  of  ftre  as  the  instrument  of  puri- 
fication, when  Christ  comes  to  visit  His  Church. 

INIoreovcr,  there  were  other  texts  of  obscure  and  inde- 
terminate meaning,  which  seem  on  this  hypothesis  to 
receive  a  profitable  meaning;  such  as  Our  Lord's  words 
in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  "  Verily,  1  say  unto  thee, 
thou  shalt  by  no  means  come  out  thence  till  thou  hast 
paid  the  uttermost  farthing ;  "  and  St.  John's  expression 
in  the  Apocalypse,  that,  "  no  man  in  heaven,  nor  in  earth, 
neither  under  the  earth,  was  able  to  open  the  book." — r/a 
Media,  pp.  174-177. 


I 


334 


rURGATORY. 


Most  men,  to  our  apprehensions,  arc  too  little  formed  in 
religious  habits  either  for  heaven  or  for  hell;  yet  there  is 
no  middle  state  when  Christ  comes  in  judgment.  In 
consequence,  it  is  obvious  to  have  recourse  to  the  inter- 


val before  His  coming,  as  a 


time  during  which 


this 


m- 


completeness  may  be  remedied,  as  a  season,  not  of  chang- 
ing the  spiritual  bent  and  character  of  the  soul  departed, 
whatever  that  be,  for  probation  ends  with  mortal  life,  but 
of  developing  it  in  a  more  determinate  form,  whether  of 
good  or  evil.  Again,  when  the  mind  once  allows  itself 
to  speculate,  it  will  discern  in  such  a  provision  a  means 
whereby  those  who,  not  without  true  faith  at  bottom, 
yet  have  committed  great  crimes,  or  those  who  have 
been  carried  off  in  youth  while  still  undecided,  or  who 
die  after  a  barren,  though  not  immoral  or  scandalous  life, 
may  receive  such  chastisement  as  may  prepare  them  for 
heaven,  and  render  it  consistent  with  God's  justice  to 
admit  them  thither.  Again,  the  inequality  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  Christians  in  this  life  compared  one  with  another, 
leads  the  mind  to  the  same  speculations ;  the  intense  suf- 
fering, for  instance,  which  some  men  undergo  on  their 
death-bed,  seeming  as  if  but  an  anticipation  in  their  case 
of  what  comes  after  death  upon  others,  who,  without 
greater  claims  on  God's  forbearance,  live  without  chas- 
tisement and  die  easily.  The  mind  will  inevitably  dwell 
upon  such  thoughts,  unless  it  has  been  taught  to  subdue 
them  by  education  or  by  the  fear  of  the  experience  of 
their  dangerousness. —  P^i'a  Media,  pp.  174-177. 


THOUGHTS  OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


335 


"ormcd  in 
t  there  is 
lent.  In 
he  inter- 

this  in- 
)f  chang- 
lepartcd, 
i  life,  but 
lether  of 
ws  itself 
a  means 

bottom, 
ho  have 
,  or  who 
lous  life, 
hem  for 
stice  to 
c  suffer- 
anothcr, 
;i.se  suf- 
)n  their 
eir  case 
without 
it  chas- 
y  dwell 

subdue 
ence  of 


0l 


^"^ 


i 


ALL  SOULS. 


FROM   THE   FRENCH. 


NoVEiMBER  is  come ;  and  the  pleasant  verdure  that  the 
groves  and  woods  offered  to  our  view  in  the  joyous 
spring  is  fast  losing  its  cheerful  hue,  while  its  withered 
remains  lie  trembling  and  scattered  beneath  our  feet. 
The  grave  and  plaintive  voice  of  the  consecrated  bell 
sends  forth  its  funereal  tones,  and,  recalling  the  dead  to 
our  pensive  souls,  implores  for  them  the  pity  of  the  living. 
Oh  I  let  us  hearken  to  its  thrilling  call ;  and  may  the 
sanctuary  gather  us  together  within  its  darkened  walls, 
there  to  invoke  our  Eternal  Father,  and  breathe  forth 
cherished  names  in  earnest  prayer ! 

When  the  solemn  hour  of  the  last  farewell  was  come 
for  those  we  loved,  and  their  weakened  sight  was  extin- 
guished forever,  it  seemed  as  if  our  hearts'  memory 
would  be  eternal,  and  as  if  those  dear  ones  would  never 
be  Ibrgotten.  But  time  has  fled,  their  memory  has  grown 
dim,  and  other  thoughts  reign  paramoimt  in  our  forget- 
ful hearts,  which  barely  give  them  from  time  to  time  a 
pious  recollection. 

Nevertheless,  they  loved  us,  perhaps  too  well,  lavish  of 
a  love  that  Heaven  demanded.  How  devoted  was  their 
affection ;  and  shall  we  now  requite  it  by  a  cruel  forget- 
fulness?  Oh!  if  they  suffer  still  on  our  account;  if,  be- 
cause of  their  weakness,  they  still  feel  the  wrath  of  God's 
justice,  shall  we  not  pray,  when  their  voices  implore  our 
help,  when  their  tears  ascend  towards  us? 

Alas !  in  this  life  what  direful  contamination  clings  to 
the  steps  of  irresolute  mortals !  Who  has  not  wavered  in 
the  darksome  paths  into  which  the  straight  road  so  often 
deviates  ? 

The  infinite  justice  of  the  God  of  purity  perhaps  retains 
them  in  the  dungeons  of  death.  Alas  !  for  long  and  long 
the  Haven  of  eternal  life  may  be  closed  against  them! 


n 


t: 


33<J 


rURGATORY. 


Oh,  let  us  pray  ;  our  voices  will  open  the  abode  of  celes- 
tial peace  unto  the  imprisoned  soul.  The  God  of  conso- 
lation i;ave  us  prayer,  that  love  might  thus  become  eter- 
nal.—  The  Lamp,  Nov.  5,  1864. 


AN  ANGLICAN  BISHOP  PRAYING  FOR  THE  DEAD. 

Foremost  amonj^  later  Anglican  divines  in  piety,  in 
learning,  and  in  the  finer  qualities  of  head  and  heart, 
stands  the  name  of  Reginald  Heber,  Bishop  of  the  Estab- 
lishment, whose  gentle  memory, — embalmed  in  several 
graceful  and  musical  poems,  chiefly  on  religious  subjects, 
— is  still  revered  and  cherished  by  his  co-religionists, 
respected  and  admired  even  by  those  v.ho  see  in  him 
only  the  man  and  the  poet — not  the  religious  teacher.  I 
am  happy  to  lay  before  -my  readers  the  following  extract 
from  a  letter  of  Bishop  Heber,  in  which  that  amiable  and 
accomplished  prelate  expresses  his  belief  in  the  efficac ; 
of  prayers  for  the  departed  : 

"  Few  persons,  I  believe,  have  lost  a  beloved  objecc, 
more  particularly  by  sudden  death,  without  feeling  an 
earnest  desire  to  recommend  them  in  their  prayers  to 
God's  mercy,  and  a  sort  of  instinctive  impression  that 
such  devotions  might  still  be  serviceable  to  them. 

*  4V  -X-  -k  Ht  *  Hi 

"  Having  been  led  attentively  to  consider  the  question, 
my  own  opinion  is,  on  the  whole,  favorable  to  the  prac- 
tice, wliich  is,  indeed,  so  natural  and  so  comfortable,  that 
this  alone  is  a  presumption  that  it  is  neither  unpleasing 
to  the  Almighty  nor  unavailing  with  Him. 

"  The  Jews,  so  far  back  as  their  opinions  and  practices 
can  be  traced  since  the  time  of  Our  Saviour,  have  uni- 
formly recommended  their  deceased  friends  to  mercy ; 
and  from  a  passage  in  the  Second  Book  of  Maccabees,  it 
appears  that,  from  whatever  source  they  derived  it,  they 
hud  the  same  custom  before  His  time.     But  if  this  were 


u\ 


THOUGHTS   OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


the  case,  the  practice  can  hardly  be  unlawful,  or  cither 
Christ  or  His  Apostles  would,  one  should  think,  have, 
in  some  of  their  writings  or  discourses,  condemned  it. 
On  the  same  side  it  may  be  observed  that  the  Greek 
Church,  and  all  the  Eastern  Churches,  pray  for  the  dead ; 
and  that  we  know  the  practice  to  have  been  un^'vcrsal,  or 
nearly  so,  among  the  Christians  a  little  more  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  years  after  Our  Saviour.  It  is  s{)oken 
of  as  the  usual  custom  by  TertuUian  and  Epipbanius. 
Augustine,  in  his  Confessions,  has  given  a  beautiful  prayer 
which  he  himself  used  for  his  deceased  mother,  Monica ; 
and  among  Protestants,  Luther  and  Dr.  Johnson  are 
eminent  instances  of  the  same  conduct.  I  have,  accord- 
ingly, been  myself  in  the  habit,  for  some  years,  of  recom- 
mending on  some  occasions,  as,  after  receiving  the  sacra- 
ment, etc.,  my  lost  friends  by  name  to  God's  goodness 
and  compassion,  through  His  Son,  as  what  can  do  them  no 
harm,  and  may,  and  I  hope  will,  be  of  service  to  them." 


IP 

\ 


■!' 


ii]. 


Ill 


^       ' 


'      1 


^-' ffiSill^Mfct-l'.  ■ 


^^i^'j^-Uiaii.Ww" 


;8 


rURGATORY. 


THE   "PURGATORY"   OF  DANTE, 


MARIOTTI. 


In  the  course  of  his  remarks  upon  the  Divina  Conicdia 
of  Dante,  a  bitter  opponent  of  the  Holy  See  and  of  ev^ery- 
thing  Catholic,  Mariotti,'  an  apostle  of  United  Italy,  ex- 
presses his  views  upon  the  ancient  doctrine  of  Purga- 
tory. These  views  are  but  an  instance  of  how  its  beauty 
and  truthfulness  to  nature  strike  the  minds  of  those  who 
have  strayed  from  the  centre  of  Christian  unity. 


"  To  say  nothing  of  its  greatness  and  goodness,  the 
poem  of  Dante,"  says  Mariotti,  "  is  the  most  curious  of 
books.  The  register  of  the  past,  noting  down  every  in- 
cident within  the  compass  of  man's  nature.  .  .  .  Dante 
is  the  annalist,  the  interpreter,  the  representative  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  .  .  .  The  ideas  of  mankind  were  in 
those  *  da}'k '  ages  perpetually  revolving  upon  that  *  life 
beyond  life,'  which  the  omnipresent  religion  of  \hn.i  fanat- 
ical ^go  loved  to  people  with  appalling  phantoms  and  har- 
rowing terrors.  Dante  determined  to  anticipate  his  final 
doom,  and  still,  in  the  flesh,  to  break  through  the  thresh- 
old of  eternity,  and  explore  the  kingdom  of  death.  .  .  . 
No  poet  ever  struck  upon  a  subject  to  which  every  fibre 
in  the  heart  of  his  contemporaries  more  readily  responded 
than  Dante.  It  is  not  for  me  to  test  the  soundness  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  doctrine  of  Purgatory,  or  to  inquire 
which  of  the  Holy  Fathers  first  dreamt  of  its  existence. 
It  was,  however,  a  sublime  contrivance,  unscriptural 
though  it  may  be — a  conception  full  of  love  and  charity, 
in  so  far  as  it  seemed  to  arrest  the  dead  on  the  threshold 
of  eternity  ;  and  making  his  final  welfare  partly  depend- 
ent on  the  pious  exertions  of  those  who  were  left  behind, 
established  a  lastincf  interchansfe  of  tender  feelinirs,  cm- 

'  Mariotti,  autlior  of  "  Italy  Past  and  Present,"  an  unscrupulous  opponent 
of  llie  Papacy  and  of  the  Church, 


^la  Conicdia 
\  of  every- 
1  Italy,  cx- 
of  Piirga- 
its  beauty 
those  who 


)dncss,  the 
curious  of 
1  every  in- 
.  .  Dante 
tive  of  the 
[d  were  in 
1  that  *  life 
XkvdXfanat- 
ns  and  har- 
ite  his  final 
the  thresh- 
ith.    .     .     . 

very  fibre 
responded 
ness  of  the 
to  inquire 

existence, 
iscriptural 

d  charity, 

threshold 
ly  depend- 
eft  behind, 
slinijs,  cm- 

ous  opponent 


' 


THOUGHTS   OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


339 


balmed  the  memory  of  the  departed,  and  by  a  posthu- 
mous tic  wedded  him  to  the  mourning  survivor.  .  .  . 
Woe  to  the  man,  in  Dante's  age,  who  sunk  into  his  grave 
without  bequeathing  a  heritage  of  love  ;  on  whose  sod  no 
refreshing  dew  of  sorrowing  affection  descended.  Lonely 
as  his  relics  in  the  sepulchre,  his  spirit  wandered  in  the 
dreaded  region  of  probation ;  alone  he  was  left  defence- 
less, prayerless,  friendless  to  settle  his  awful  score  with 
unmitigated  justice.  It  is  this  feeling,  unrivalled  for 
poetic  beauty,  that  gives  color  and  tone  to  the  second 
division  of  Dante's  poem.  The  five  or  six  cantos,  at  the 
opening,  have  all  the  milk  of  human  nature  that  entered 
into  the  composition  of  that  miscalled  saturnine  mind. 
With  little  more  than  two  words,  the  poet  makes  us 
aware  that  we  have  come  into  happier  latitudes.  Every 
strange  visitor  breathes  love  and  forgiveness.  The 
shade  we  meet  is  only  charged  with  tidings  of  joy  to  the 
living,  and  messages  of  good  will.  The  heart  lightens 
and  brightens  at  every  new  stratum  of  the  atmosphere  in 
that  rising  region ;  the  ascent  is  easy  and  light,  like  the 
gliding  of  a  boat  down  the  stream.  The  angels  we  be- 
come familiar  with  are  angels  of  light,  such  as  human 
imagination  never  before  nor  afterwards  conceived. 
They  come  from  afar  across  the  waves,  piloting  the 
barge  that  conve3's  the  chosen  spirits  to  heaven,  balanc- 
ing themselves  on  their  wide-spread  wings,  using  them 
as  sails,  disdaining  the  aid  of  all  mortal  contrivance,  and 
relying  on  their  inexhaustible  strength  ;  red  and  rayless 
at  first,  from  the  distance,  as  the  planet  Mars  when  he 
appears  struggling  through  the  mist  of  the  horizon,  but 
growing  brighter  and  brighter  with  amazing  swiftness. 
They  stand  at  the  gate  of  Purgatory,  they  guard  the  en- 
trance to  each  of  the  seven  steps  of  its  mountain — some 
with  green  vesture,  vivid  as  new-budding  leaves,  grace- 
fully waving  and  floating  in  simple  drapery,  fanned  by 
their  wings;  bearing  in  their  hands  flaming  swords 
broken  at  the  point ;  others,  ash-colored  garments ; 
others  again,  in  flashing  armor,  but  all  beaming  with  so 


f! 


ywwwWHiBiijjiJ^ 


340 


rURGATORY. 


intense,  so  overwhelming  a  light,  that  dizziness  over- 
comes all  mortal  ken,  whenever  directed  to  their  counte- 
nance. The  friends  of  the  poet's  youth  one  by  one  arrest 
his  march,  and  engage  him  in  tender  converse.  The 
very  laws  of  immutable  fate  seem  for  a  few  moments  sus- 
])ended  to  allow  full  scope  for  the  interchange  of  affec- 
tionate sentiments.  The  overawincf  consciousness  of  the 
l)lace  he  is  in,  for  a  moment  forsakes  the  mortal  visitor 
so  miraculously  admitted  into  the  world  of  spirits.  He 
throws  his  arms  round  the  neck  of  the  beloved  shade, 
and  it  is  only  by  the  smile  irradiating  its  countenance 
that  he  is  reminded  of  the  intangibility  of  its  ethereal 
substance.  The  episodes  of  *'the  Purgatory  "  are  mostly 
of  this  sad  and  tender  description.  The  historical  person- 
ages introduced  seem  to  have  lost  their  own  identity, 
and  to  have  merged  into  a  blessed  calmness,  character- 
izing medium  of  the  region  they  arc  all  travelling 
through." 

It  is  plain  that,  bitterly  hostile  as  is  this  faithless  Italian 
to  the  Ciuirch  of  his  fatliers,  and  the  truth  which  it 
teaches,  his  poetic  instinct,  at  least,  rises  above  mere 
I)rejudice,  and  enables  him  to  penetrate  into  that  dim  but 
holy  atmosphere  created  by  the  poet's  genius,  and  yet 
more  fully  by  the  poet's  faith.  This  homage  to  the  union 
of  religious  grandeur,  natural  tenderness,  and  supernat- 
ural fervent  charity,  which  make  this  doctrine  uncon- 
sciously dear  to  every  human  heart,  is  of  value  coming 
from  the  pen  of  so  prejudiced  a  witness.  It  is  but  one  of 
countless  testimonies  that  in  all  times,  and  in  all  ages, 
have  sprung  from  the  heart  of  man,  as  it  were  in  his  own 
despite. 


THOUGHTS  OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


341 


t 


iness  over- 
cir  countc- 
'  one  arrest 
crsc.  The 
)nients  siis- 
^c  of  afl'ee- 
ness  of  the 
irtal  visitor 
pirits.  He 
vcd  shade, 
Duntenance 
ts  ethereal 
are  mostly 
cal  person- 
n  identity, 
character- 
travelling 


less  Italian 
1  which  it 
)ove  mere 
at  dim  but 
s,  and  yet 
)  the  union 
supernat- 
ne  uncon- 
le  coming 
but  one  of 
1  all  ages, 
in  his  own 


THE  MONTH   OF  NOVEMBER.' 

MARY   K.  BI.AKIC   (mAKIK). 

It  is  but  a  few  days  since  the  Church  has  celebrated 
the  triumph  of  her  saints,  rejoicing  in  the  eternal  felicity 
of  that  innumerable  throng  whom  she  has  given  to  the 
celestial  Sion.  She  invites  us  to  share  her  joy.  She  bids 
us  look  U|^  from  the  rugged  pathway  of  our  thorn-strewn 
pilgrimage  to  that  blissful  abode  which  is  to  be  the  term 
and  the  reward  of  all  our  trials.  Yet,  like  a  true  mother, 
she  cannot  forget  that  portion  of  her  family  who  are  sigh- 
ing for  their  deliverance,  in  that  region  of  pain  to  which 
they  are  consigned  by  eternal  justice.  On  one  day  she 
sings  with  radiant  brow  and  tones  of  jubilee  her  Snrsiini 
Corda  ;  on  the  next,  she  kneels  a  suppliant,  chanting  with 
uplifted  hands  and  tearful  eyes  her  Requiem  JEtcrnaiii ; 
and  we,  the  companions  of  her  exile,  shall  we  not  sympa- 
thize with  every  emotion  of  the  heart  of  our  tender 
Mother.? 

Among  the  pious  customs  which  owe  their  existence  to 
the  fertile  spirit  of  Catholic  devotion  is  that  which  dedi- 
cates the  month  of  November  to  the  ^Suffering  Souls  in 
Purgatory.  It  would  seem  as  though  the  annual  circle 
of  commemorative  devotion  were  incomplete  without  this 
crowning  fulfilment  of  charity. 

Some  years  since,  I  met  with  a  graphic  description  of 
a  spectacle  in  the  Catholic  Cemetery  of  New  Orleans. 
It  was  the  2d  of  November,  when  the  friends  and  relatives 
of  the  dead  came  to  scatter  emblematic  wreaths  and 
sweet-scented  flowers  on  their  graves.  This  custon\  was 
observed  by  the  French  Catholics  and  their  descend- 
ants ;  and  the  writer,  although  a  Protestant,  was  deeply 
im])rcssed  with  its  beauty  and  signiftcance.  lie  asked 
why,  among  Americans,  there  was  so  little  of  tliis  elo- 
quent affection  for  the  dead.     He  might  have  found  an 

>  New  York  Tabid,  Nov.  26,  1S59. 


342 


rURGATORY. 


answer  in  the  fact  that  the  principle  of  faith  was  want- 
ing-— of  that  vivid  and  active  faith  whicli  seeks  and  hnds 
by  such  means  its  outward  manifestation. 

\Vc,  also,  are  the  children  of  the  wSaints.  We  have  in- 
herited from  them  the  same  faith  in  all  its  integrity,  and 
how  does  owx practice  correspond  with  it?  What  are  we 
doing  for  that  army  of  holy  captives  who  cannot  leave 
their  prison  till  the  uttermost  farthing  be  paid  ?  Let  us 
not  imitate  those  tepid  Christians  who  arc  satisfied  with 
erecting  costly  monuments,  and  observing,  with  scrupu- 
lous exactness,  the  usual  period  of  ''  mourning,"  while 
the  poor  souls  are  left  to  pine  forgotten,  if  they  have  gone 
with  some  lingering  stains — some  earthly  tarnish  on  their 
nuptial  garment.  Ah !  there  is  so  much  that  might  be 
done  if  we  would  only  reflect,  and  let  our  hearts  be  soft- 
ened by  the  intense  eloquence  of  their  mute  appeal.     .     . 

These  arc  a  few  of  the  thoughts  suggested  by  the  late 
solemnity,  and  perhaps  they  cannot  be  concluded  more 
appropriately  than  by  introducing  the  following  poem, 
found  in  an  old  magazine.  If  the  theme  be  sufficient  to 
inspire  thus  one  who  had  but  faint  glimmerings  of  divine 
truth,  what  should  be  expected  of  us,  who  rejoice  in  the 
fullness  of  that  light?  I  twine,  then,  this  flower  of  the 
desert  with  the  leaves  I  have  gathered,  and  offer  my 
humble  wreath  as  a  tribute  of  faith  and  affection  on  the 
altar  dedicated  to  the  dear  departed. 
November^  1859. 

LITANY   OF   THE    DEPARTED. 

It  is,  therefore,  a  holy  and  wholesome  thought  to  pra  '"-^r  the  dead. — II. 
Mach.  xii.  26. 

For  the  spirits  who  have  fled 
From  the  earth  which  once  they  trod ; 

For  the  loved  and  faithful  dead. 
We  beseech  the  living  God  ! 
Oh  !  receive  and  love  them  ! 

By  the  grave  where  Thou  wcrt  lying. 

By  the  anguish  of  Thy  dying. 


was  want- 
ancl  iinds 

2  have  in- 
grity,  and 
lat  are  we 
inot  leave 
?     Let  us 
sfied  with 
h  scrupii- 
g,"  while 
lave  gone 
h  on  their 
might  be 
ts  be  soft- 
)eal.     .     . 
/■  the  late 
led  more 
ig  poem, 
ficient  to 
of  divine 
ce  in  the 
2r  of  the 
offer  my 
11  on  the 


dead. — II. 


THOUGHTS   OF  VARIOUS   AUTHORS. 

Spread  Thy  wings  above  them ; 
Grant  Thy  pardon  unto  them, 
JJomi  CIS  nqnicm  ! 

Long  they  suffered  here  below, 

Outward  fightings,  inward  fears; 
Ate  the  eheerless  bread  of  woe, — 
Drank  tiie  bitter  wine  of  tears: — 
Now  receive  and  love  them  ! 
By  Thy  holy  Saints'  departures, 
By  the  witness  of  Thy  martyrs, 

Spread  Thy  wings  above  them. 
On  the  souls  in  gloom  who  sit, 
Lux  ctcrtia  liiccat  ! 

Lord,  remember  that  they  wept, 

When  Thy  children  would  divide; 
Lord,  remember  that  they  slept 
On  the  bosom  of  Thy  Bride; 
And  receive  and  love  them ! 
By  the  tears  Thou  couldst  not  smother; 
By  the  love  of  Thy  dear  Mother, 
Spread  Thy  wings  above  them. 
To  their  souls,  in  bliss  with  Thee, 
Dona  paccni,  Domini  ! 

Grant  our  prayers,  and  bid  them  pray, 

O  thou  Flower  of  Jesse's  stem  ; 
Lend  a  gracious  ear  when  they 
I'lead  for  us,  as  we  for  them. 
Dais  Angcloruin^ 
Dona  cis  requiem^ 
Et  bcatitudincm, 
Co7'dibus  corum 
Jcsu,  qui  sahitam  das 
Micat  lumen  animas  ! 


343 


r 


-Acolytus. 


I 

I 


344 


'■,. 


PURGATORY. 


ALL   SOULS'   DAY.' 


MRS.   J.    SADI.IER. 

Nothing  in  the  wliolc  ^rand  scheme  of  Religion  is 
more  beautiful  than  the  tender  care  of  the  Church  over 
her  departed  children.  Not  content  with  providin<i^  for 
their  spiritual  wants  durinj:^  their  lives,  and  sendin<i^  them 
into  eternity  armed  with  and  stren<^thened  by  the  last 
solemn  Sacraments,  blessin*^  their  departure  from,  as  she 
blessed  their  entrance  into,  this  world,  her  maternal  solic- 
itude follows  them  beyond  the  j^rave,  and  penetrates  to 
the  dreary  prison  in  the  Middle  State  where,  happily, 
they  may  be,  as  the  Apostle  says,  "  cleansed  so  as  by 
fire."  With  the  tender  compassion  of  a  fond  mother,  the 
Church,  our  mother,  yearns  over  the  sufferings  of  her 
children,  all  the  dearer  to  her  because  they  suffer  in  the 
Lord,  and  by  His  holy  will. 

By  every  means  within  her  power  she  aids  these  blessed 
souls  who  are  at  once  so  near  Heaven,  and  so  far  from 
it ;  by  solemn  prayers,  by  sacrifice,  by  continual  remem- 
brance of  them  in  all  her  good  works,  she  gives  them 
help  and  comfort  herself,  while  encouraging  the  faithful 
to  imitate  her  example  in  that  respect  by  numerous  and 
great  Indulgences,  and  by  the  crown  of  eternal  blessed- 
ness she  holds  out  to  those  who  perform  faithfully  and 
in  her  own  proper  spirit  this  Seventh  Spiritual  Work  of 
Mercy — "  to  pray  for  the  living  and  the  dcady  In  every 
Mass  that  is  said  the  long  year  round  on  each  of  her 
myriad  altars,  a  solemn  commemoration  is  made  for  the 
Dead  immediately  after  the  Elevation  of  the  Sacred 
Host,  the  great  Atoning  Sacrifice  of  the  New  Law ;  in 
all  the  other  public  offices  of  the  Church,  "  the  faithful 
departed  "  are  tenderly  remembered,  and,  to  crown  the 
efforts  of  her  maternal  charity,  the  second  day  of  Novem- 
ber of  every  year  is  set  apart  for  the  solemn  remem- 
brance of  these  her  most  beloved  and  most  afflicted 
children,  for  whose  benefit  and  relief  all  the  Masses  of 

»  New  York  TabUl,  Nov.  12,  18C4. 


1 


THOUGHTS   OF   VARIOUS  AUTHORS, 


345 


dig  ion  is 
ircli  over 
idin^-  for 
in<r  them 

the  last 
m,  as  she 
nal  solic- 
trates  to 

happily, 
so  as  by 
thcr,  the 
s  of  her 
'er  in  the 

cj  blessed 
far  from 
remem- 
es  them 
5  faithful 
ous  and 
blessed- 
Lilly  and 
Vork  of 
n  every 
1  of  her 
for  the 
Sacred 
-^aw ;  in 
faithful 
•wn  the 
^ovem- 
remem- 
ifflicted 
Lsses  of 


> 


that  day  throu<;hout  the  whole  Catholic  world  arc  spc^- 
cially  offered  up.  Nay,  more  than  that,  tlie  entire  month 
of  November  is  devoted  to  the  wSouls  in  Puiij^atory,  and 
the  good  works  and  pious  j^raycrs  of  all  the  holv  com- 
munities who  spenti  their  lives  in  commune  witli  (iod 
are  offered  up  witii  that  benign  intention  during  the 
month. 

In  Catholic  countries,  the  iaithful  are  touciiingly  re- 
minded of  this  sad  thougli  pleasing  duty  to  their  de- 
parted brethren,  by  the  tolling  of  the  several  convent 
and  church  '  ':11s  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  at  wiiicli 
time  the  different  communities  imite  in  reciting  the  sol- 
emn I)i'  Profundis,  and  other  prayers  for  the  dead.  Sol- 
emn and  sonorous  we  have  heard  that  i)assing-bell,  year 
after  year,  booming  through  the  darkness  and  storm  of 
the  November  night  in  a  northern  land '  where  the  pious 
customs  of  the  best  ages  of  France,  transplanted  over 
two  centuries  ago,  flourish  still  in  their  pristine  beauty 
and  touching  fervor. 

But,  though  all  Catholics  may  not  hear  the  Dc  Pro- 
fundis  bell  of  November  nights,  nor  all  households  kneel 
at  evening  hour  to  join  in  spirit  with  the  pious  communi- 
ties who  are  praying  then  for  the  faithful  departed,  yet 
all  Catholics  know  when,  on  the  first  of  November,  they 
celebrate  the  great  and  joyous  festival  of  All  Saints,  that 
the  next  day  will  bring  the  mournful  solemnity  of  All 
Souls,  when  the  altars  of  the  Church  will  be  draped  with 
black,  and  her  ministers  robed  in  the  same  sombre  garb, 
whilst  offering  the  "  Clean  Oblation"  of  the  New  Lav/ 
for  the  souls  who  are  yet  in  a  state  of  purgation  in  the 
other  life. 

To  the  deep  heart  of  Catholic  piety  nothing  can  bo 
more  sensibly  touching  than  *•  the  black  Mass"  of  All 
Souls'  Day.  If  the  feast  be  not  celebrated  by  the  laity  as 
it  so  faithfully  is  by  the  Church,  it  certainly  ought  to  be, 
if  the  spirit  of  the  faith  be  still  amongst  them.  The 
funereal  solemnity  of  the  occasion  touches  the  deepest, 

'  Eastern,  or  French  Canada,  now  known  as  the  Province  of  Quebec. 


! 


I    i| 

'i 


Hi 


34<5 


rURGATORV. 


holiest  sympathies  in  every  true  CathoUc  iiearl,  remind- 
\\v^  eacli  ol  tlu'ir  h)vc(l  and  h)sl,  and  filliiifj^  their  souls 
with  the  sootlnn<^  hope  that  tiie  Clreat  Sacrifice  then 
offered  up  for  all  the  departed  children  of  the  Church 
may  release  one  or  more  of  their  nearest  antl  dearest 
from  the  cleansin<^  lires  of  l*ur<^atory.  Then,  while  the 
funeral  dirj^c  hlls  the  sacred  edifice,  and  the  mournful 
Dies  IriC  thrills  the  hearts  of  all,  each  one  thinks  of  his 
own  departed  ones,  and  recalls  with  indescribable  sad- 
ness other  just  such  celebrations  in  the  years  lon^  past, 
when  those  for  whom  they  now  invoke  the  mercy  of 
Heaven  were  still  amon<^st  the  living.  Then  comes,  too, 
the  solemn  thoui^ht  that  some,  i)erhaps  many,  of  those 
then  present  in  lite  and  health  may  be  numbered  with  the 
dead  before  All  Souls'  Day  comes  round  again,  and  a 
voice  from  the  depths  of  the  Christian  heart  asks,  "  May 
not  I,  too,  be  then  with  the  dead  ?  " 

When  noting  with  surprise  and  regret  how  many 
Catholics  neglect  the  celebration  of  All  Souls'  Day,  we 
have  often  endeavored  to  account  for  such  strange  apathy. 
Surely,  if  the  charity  of  the  Church  do  not  inspire  them 
— if  they  do  not  feel,  with  the  valiant  Macchabeus  of  old, 
tnat  "  it  is  a  holy  and  a  wholesome  thought  to  pray  for 
the  Dead  that  they  may  be  loosed  from  their  sins  " — if 
natural  affection,  even,  do  not  move  them  to  think  of  the 
probable  sufferings  of  their  own  near  and  dear — suffer- 
ings which  they  may  have  it  in  their  power  to  alleviate 
— at  least,  a  motive  of  self-interest  ought  to  make  them 
reflect  that  when  they  themselves  are  with  the  dead, 
retributive  justice  may  leave  them  forgotten  by  thir 
own  flesh  and  blood,  as  they  forget  others  now.  But  to 
those  who  do  faithfully  unite  with  the  Church  in  her 
solemn  commemoration  of  the  faithful  departed  on  All 
Souls'  Day,  nothing  can  be  more  soothing  to  the  deep 
heart  of  human  sadness,  as  nothing  is  more  imposing,  or 
more  strikingly  illustrative  of  that  Catholic  charity,  that 
all-embracing  charity  which  has  its  life  and  fountain 
within  the  Church. 


t,  rcmind- 
licir  souls 
ilicc   tlicn 
c  Church 
1    dearest 
while  the 
mournful 
iks  of  his 
'ai)le  sad- 
nn^  past, 
mercy  of 
»mes,  too, 
of  those 
with  the 
in,  and  a 
cs,  "  iMay 

w   many 
Day,  we 
c  apathy, 
(ire  them 
lIS  of  old, 
pray  for 
Sins    — if 
ik  of  the 
— suflbr- 
alleviate 
ke  them 
le  dead, 
by   th'ir 
But  to 
1  in  her 
I  on  All 
he  deep 
)sing,  or 
ity,  that 
fountain 


THOUGHTS  OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


347 


0 


CEMETERIES. 

The  respect  due  to  cemeteries  is  too  closely  connected 
with  the  doctrine  of  Purj^atory  lb'  us  to  omit  observinij^ 
here  that  those  asylums  of  the  dead,  beiiiL;  the  objects  of 
pious  •cverence,  even  amon^^^st  infidels,  ou<^ht  to  be  still 
more  so  amongst  us.  It  was  in  this  connection  that 
Mgr.  Felletan,  Arch-priest  of  the  Cathedral  of  Algiers, 
wrote  thus  on  the  13th  of  March,  1843  • 

"Here  in  Algici's.  do  ^vc  not  see,  every  Friday,  the 
]M'.is.,alman  Aiab,  vvaniering  pensively  through  his  cem- 
cteiy,  pii'.cjni^  on  sohm;  venerated  and  beloved  grave 
bouquets  of  Hovvcr.:,  branches  of  boxwood  ;  wrapped  in 
his  bornousc.  he  sits  for  hours  beside  it,  motionless  and 
thoughtful  ,  lost  '.1  gentle  mvlaucholy,  it  would  seem  as 
though  he  were  holding'  inliinate  and  mysterious  con- 
vcn,e  with  tii'';  dear  departed  oiic:  whose  loss  he  de- 
plores.    .     .     . 

"  But  for  lis,  Chr'.st\\ns.  KourLilu-d,  enlightened  by  the 
truth  of  Go;!,  what  s(:ec:al  honiage,  •  !?-it  profound  rev- 
erence Wvj  slioiild  iTiapiie.>t  tou'a'xis  tiie  remains  of  our 
fathers,  our  brethren  wlio  died  in  the  same  faith  !  Oh, 
let  us  reniomber  the  firsf  faithfui-  th:  martyrs — the  cata- 
combs !  The  cemetery  Is  ior  ur,  ^iic  land  where  grows 
invsibly  the  harvcit  (;{  tlic  elect ;  it  is  the  slec])ing  world 
of  i  itelligencc  ;  sheltered  are  its  ])eaceful  slumbers  in  the 
bosom  of  nacurc  over  yodiig,  ever  fruitful ;  the  crowd  of 
the  dead  pressed  together  beneath  those  crosses,  under 
those  sratiered  ilowcrs,  is  the  crowd  that  will  one  day 
rise  to  take  possession  of  the  infinite  future,  from  which 
i(  IS  only  separated  by  some  sods  of  turf. 

"  Hence  how  lively,  how  motherly  has  ever  been  the 
solicitude  of  the  Church  in  this  respect !  She  wishes 
that  the  ground  wherein  repose  the  remains  of  her  chil- 
dren be  blessed  and  consecrated  ground  ;  she  purifies  it 
with  hyssop  and  holy  water ;  she  calls  down  upon  it  by 


Ji 


3Krr 


348 


PURGATORY. 


her  humble  supplications,  the  benediction  of  Him  who 
disposes  according  to  His  will  of  things  visible  and  in- 
visible, of  souls  and  of  bodies ;  she  wishes  that  the  cross 
should  rise  in  its  midst,  that  her  children  may  rest  in 
peace  in  its  shade  while  awaiting  the  grand  awaking ; 
even  as  a  temple  and  a  sanctuary,  she  banishes  from  it 
games,  noise  of  all  kinds,  and  even  all  that  savors  of  lev- 
ity or  irreverence." — Dictionnairc  d' Anecdotes  Clire'tiens^  p. 

993. 


OPINIONS   OF   VARIOUS   PROTESTANTS. 

Some  say,  like  Lessing  in  his  "  Treatise  on  Theology," 
**  What  hinders  us  from  admitting  a  Purgatory  ?  as  if  the 
great  majority  of  Christians  had  not  really  adopted  it. 
No,  this  intermediate  state  being  taught  and  recognized 
by  the  ancient  Church,  notwithstanding  the  scandalous 
abuses  to  which  it  gave  rise,  should  not  be  absolutely  re- 
jected." 

Others,  with  Dr.  Forbes  icontrov.  pontif.  princip.,  anno 
1658):  "  IVayer  for  the  dead,  made  use  of  from  the 
TIMES  OF  THE  AposTLES,  cannot  be  rejected  as  useless 
by  Protestants.  They  should  respect  the  judgment  ot 
the  primitive  Church,  and  adopt  a  practice  sanctioned 
by  the  continuous  belief  of  so  many  ages.  We  repeat 
that  prayer  for  the  dead  is  a  salutary  practice." 

Several  others,  rising  to  our  point  of  view,  drawing 
their  inspiration  from  the  sources  of  Catholic  charity, 
tell  you,  with  the  theologian  Collier  (Part  II.  p.  100) : 
'■'■  Prayer  for  the  dead  revives  the  belief  in  the  immortal- 
ity of  the  soul,  withdraws  the  dark  veil  which  covers  the 
tomb,  and  establishes  relations  between  this  world  and 
the  other.  Had  it  been  preserved,  we  should  probably 
not  have  had  amongst  us  so  much  incredulity.  I  cannot 
conceive  why  our  Church,  which  is  so  remote  from  the 
primitive  times  of  Christianity,  should  have  abandoned 
or  disdained  a  custom  that  had  never  been  interrupted  ; 


!!'' 


THOUGHTS   OF   VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


349 


[im  who 
I  and  in- 
thc  cross 
y  rest  in 
L waking ; 
3  from  it 
s  of  lev- 
"c'ticns,  p. 


eology," 
as  if  the 
:)pted  it. 
:og-nized 
mdalous 
Litely  re- 

?/.,  aniio 
OM   THE 

useless 
rnent  ot 
ictioncd 
3  repeat 

drawing 
charity, 
I  go)  : 
imortal- 
vers  the 
rid  and 
robably 
cannot 
"om  the 
ndoned 
rupted ; 


D 


I 


which,  on  the  contrary,  as  we  have  reason  to  believe 
from  Scripture,  existed  in  ancient  times  ;  which  was 
practiced  in  the  Apostolic  age,  in  the  time  of  miracles 
and  revelations  ;  introduced  amongst  the  articles  of  faitli, 
and  never  rejected,  except  by  Arius." 

"  It  was  evidently  in  use  in  the  Church  in  the  time  of 
St.  Augustine,  and  down  to  the  sixteenth  century.  If 
we  do  nothing  for  our  dead,  if  we  omit  to  occupy  our- 
selves witii  them  and  i)ray  for  them,  as  was  formerly 
done  in  the  Holy  Supper,  we  break  off  all  intercourse 
with  the  Saints  ;  and  then,  how  could  we  dare  to  say 
that  we  remain  in  communion  with  the  blessed?  And  if 
we  break  off  in  this  way  from  the  most  noble  part  of  the 
universal  Church,  may  it  not  be  said  that  we  mutilate  our 
belief  and  reject  one  of  the  articles  of  the  Christian 
faith?" 

"  Yes,"  says  the  German  Sheldon,  in  his  turn,  "  prayer 
for  the  dead  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  most  efhca- 
cious  practices  of  the  Christian  religion." 

\o\x  have  just  heard  the  sound  of  some  bells  ;  listen 
again  and  ycu  shall  hear  something  different. 

You  think,  then,  that  there  are  Protestants  who  admit 
Purgatory  and  others  who  deny  it  ?  You  are  mistaken ! 
There  are  some  who  at  once  admit  and  do  not  admit 
it.  This  is  difhcult  to  comprehend,  but  it  is  so,  never- 
theless, and  this  is  how  they  take  it : 

On  the  one  side,  they  will  have  nothing  but  hell,  pure 
and  simple ;  this  is  the  Catholic  side  ;  but  on  the  other  is 
the  philosophic  side,  the  eternity  of  horrible  pains  is 
something  too  hard  ;  and  then,  why  not  a  hell  that  will 
end  a  little  sooner,  or  a  little  later?  For,  in  fine,  there 
are  small  criminals  and  cfreat  criminals.  So  that  their 
temporary  hell — that  is  to  say,  having  an  end — being, 
after  all,  nothing  more  than  one  Purgatory,  it  follows 
that,  having  broken  with  us  because  they  did  not  want 
I'urgatory,  they  broke  off  again  because  they  wanted 
Purgatory  only. — Dictionnairc  d" Anecdotes,  998-9. 

Mr.  Thorndike,  a  Protestant  theologian,  says :    "  The 


'    \ 


-  2S?''W3«i«,a.iiT|fe!.-<,i:. 


350 


PURGATORY. 


practice  of  the  Church  of  interceding  for  the  dead  at  the 
celebration  of  the  Eucharist,  is  so  general  and  so  ancient, 
that  it  cannot  be  thought  to  have  come  in  upon  impos- 
ture, but  that  the  same  aspersion  will  seem  to  take  hold 
of  the  common  Christianity." 

The  Protestant  translators  of  Du  Pin  observe,  that  St. 
Chrysostom,  in  his  thirty-eighth  homily  on  the  Philip- 
pians,  says,  that  to  pray  for  the  faithful  departed  in  the 
tremendous  mysteries,  was  decreed  by  the  Apostles. 

The  learned  Protestant  divine.  Dr.  Jeremy  Taylor, 
writes  thus :  "  We  find  by  the  history  of  the  Machabees, 
that  the  Jews  did  pray  and  make  offerings  for  the  dead, 
which  appears  by  other  testimonies,  and  by  their  form  of 
prayer  still  extant,  which  they  used  in  the  captivity. 
Now,  it  is  very  considerable,  that  since  our  I31essed 
Saviour  did  reprove  all  the  evil  doctrines  and  traditions 
of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  and  did  argue  concerning 
the  dead  and  the  resurrection,  yet  He  spake  no  word 
against  this  public  practice,  but  left  it  as  He  found  it ; 
which  He  who  came  to  declare  to  us  all  the  will  of  His 
Father  would  not  have  done,  if  it  had  not  been  innocent, 
pious,  and  full  of  charity.  The  practice  of  it  was  at  first, 
and  was  universal :  it  being  plain  both  in  Tertullian  and 
St.  Cyprian,  and  others." 

"  Clement,"  says  Bishop  Kaye,  "  distinguishes  between 
sins  committed  before  and  after  baptism:  the  former  are 
remitted  at  baptism,  the  latter  are  purged  by  discipline. 
.  .  .  .  The  necessity  of  this  purifying  discipline  is 
such,  that  if  it  does  not  take  place  in  this  life,  it  must 
after  death,  and  is  then  to  be  effected  by  fire,  not  by  a 
destructive,  but  a  discriminating  fire,  pervading  the  soul 
which  passes  through  it." — C/cm.,  ch.  xii. 


THOUGHTS  OF  VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


351 


3acl  at  the 

0  ancient, 
on  impos- 
take  hold 

e,  that  St- 

he  Philip- 

ed  in  the 

)stles. 

y   Taylor, 

lachabees, 

the  dead, 
III'  form  of 

captivity, 
r   I3lessed 

traditions 
;oncerning 
)  no  word 

found  it ; 
•ill  of  His 

1  innocent, 
as  at  first, 
;ullian  and 

s  between 
brmer  are 
discipline, 
scipline  is 
c,  it  must 
not  by  a 
the  soul 


.1 


) 


SOME   THOUGHTS   FOR  NOVEMBER. 

I  stood   upon  an  unknown  shore, 

A  deep,  dark   ocean,  rolled  beside; 
Dear,  loving  ones  were  wafted  o'er 

That  silent  and  mysterious  tide. 

'iv  most  persons,  the  idea  of  Purgatory  is  simply  one 
of  pain ;  they  try  to  avoid  thinking  about  it,  because  the 
subject  is  unpleasant,  and  people's  thoughts  do  not  natu- 
rally revert  to  painful  subjects ;  they  feel  that  it  is  a  place 
to  which  they  must  go  at  least,  if  they  escape  worse; 
they  must  suffer,  they  cannot  help  it,  and  so  the  less  they 
think  about  it  beforehand,  the  better.  Purgatory  and 
suffering  are  to  them  synonymous  terms ;  perhaps  fear 
keeps  them  from  some  sins  which,  without  this  salutary 
apprehension,  they  would  readily  fall  into ;  but,  on  the 
whole,  they  take  their  chance,  and  hope  f:/r  the  best. 
This,  perhaps,  is  the  view  of  a  large  class  of  people,  and 
of  those  who  will  scarcely  own  to  themselves  what  tiiey 
tliink  on  the  subject ;  but  their  lives  are  the  tell-tales,  and 
we  cannot  but  fear  that  to  escape  hell  is  the  utmost 
effort  of  many  who  apparently  are  good  Catholics.  Still, 
we  would  not  say  that  they  do  not  love  God,  that  they 
are  not  in  many  ways  pleasing  to  Him;  but,  oh!  how 
many  there  are  who  only  want  a  little  more  generosity  to 
become  Saints!  Then,  there  is  another  class,  further  on 
in  their  heavenward  journey — souls  who  do  love  God, 
who  do  seek  only  to  please  II im,  who  are  generous,  often 
even  noble-hearted,  in  their  Master's  service ;  souls  who 
can  say,  "  Our  Father,"  and  look  up  with  child-like  love 
to  Heaven  ;  but  even  with  such,  and  perhaps  with  almost 
all,  the  feeling  about  Purgatory  is  much  the  same ;  it  is  a 
sort  of  necessary  evil ;  a  something  that  must  be  endured. 
They  feel  strongly  all  that  justice  demands;  their  very 
sanctity  and  goodness  lead  them  to  desire  that  that  which 
is  evil  in  them  should  be  taken  out,  even  by  fire  ;  but  still 
there  are  few  that  do  really  see  the  deep,  deep  love  oi 


'I 


111 


3S2 


PURGATORY. 


Purgatory.  Wc  arc  very  far  from  wishing-  to  hinder  peo- 
ple from  thinking  less  of  its  sufferings — nay,  rather  their 
very  intenseness  and  severity  only  pleads  our  case  more 
strongly.  All  that  has  been  revealed  to  the  Saints,  all 
that  has  been  made  known  to  us  by  the  Church  or  tradi- 
tion, proclaims  the  same  fact.  wSuffering,  intense,  un- 
earthly anguish,  is  the  portion  of  those  most  blessed 
souls ;  and  it  has  been  said  that  the  pains  of  Purgatory 
only  differ  in  duration  from  those  of  hell.  Still,  there  is 
this  difference — oh !  blessed  be  God,  there  is  this  differ- 
ence, and  it  is  all  wc  could  ask:  in  hell,  the  damned 
blaspheme  their  Master  with  the  demons  that  torment 
them  ;  in  Purgatory,  th"  holy  souls  love  their  God  with 
the  angelic  choirs  who  await  their  entrance  to  the  land  of 
bliss.  If  the  souls  of  the  damned  could  love,  hell  would 
cease  to  be  hell ;  if  the  souls  of  the  blessed  ones  in  prison 
could  cease  to  love,  Purgator;-  would  be  worse  to  them 
than  a  thousand  such  hells. 

-A-  -;;•  %<r  -A-  •!{■  '•''  'A- 

Yes ;  Purgator}^  is  love,  and  if  it  be  true  that  the  love 
of  God  extends  even  to  hell,  because  its  torments  might 
be  worse,  did  not  His  infinite  mercy  temper  His  infinite 
justice,  how  much  more  truly  may  this  be  said  of  Purga- 
tory !  Wc  have  no  wish  to  enter  into  any  detailed  ac- 
count of  what  the  pains  of  Purgatory  are  supposed  to  be  ; 
this  is  a  subject  for  the  pen  of  the  theologian,  or  the  rap- 
tures of  the  Saint.  Awful  and  terrible  we  know  they  are. 
But  there  is  one  suffering  which  wc  wish  to  speak  of,  be- 
cause we  cannot  but  hope,  if  people  reflected  upon  it 
seriously,  that  they  would  learn  to  think  of  Purgatory 
less  as  a  necessary  evil,  and  more  as  a  most  tender  mercy, 
and  be  more  inclined  to  enter  into  a  hearty  co-operation 
with  those  who  are  anxious  to  help  the  poor  souls  in  this 
awful  prison. 

Surely,  the  one  object  of  our  whole  lives  is,  not  fo 
much  to  get  to  Heaven  because  wc  shall  be  happy  there, 
as  to  see  Jesus  forever  and  forever,  to  be  near  Him,  to 
gaze  on  Him,  and  to  love  Him  without  fear;   for  then 


THOUGHTS   OF   VARIOUS  AUTHORS. 


353 


ndcr  pco- 
thcr  tlicir 
case  more 
Saints,  all 

or  tradi- 
;ense,  iin- 
5t  blessed 
■'urgatory 
1,  there  is 
his  differ- 
2  damned 
t  torment 
God  with 
he  land  of 
lell  would 

in  prison 
c  to  them 


:  the  love 
nts  mi^rht 
is  infinite 
3f  Purg-a- 
tailed  ac- 
ed  to  be  ; 
r  the  rap- 

they  are. 
ak  of,  be- 
upon  it 
urgatory 
iv  mercy, 
operation 

Is  in  this 

^,  not  FO 

ly  there, 

Him,  to 

for  then 


* 


love  will  be  fearless,  because  suffering  and  sin  will  have 
ceased. 

And  what  will  happen  when  we  die?  Oh  !  if  we  were 
sent  to  Purgatory  without  seeing  Jesus,  we  might  bear  it 
better.  There  have  been  souls  on  earth  privileged  to 
suffer  for  months  the  pains  of  the  holy  souls,  and  they 
have  lived  and  borne  the  pain,  and  longed,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible, even  for  more;  but  they  had  not  seen  Jesus  as  wc 
shall  see  Him  at  the  moment  of  our  death.  The  very 
thought  makes  us  shudder  and  our  life-blood  run  cold. 
What  if  we  should  indeed  be  saved,  we  who  have  so 
trembled  and  feared,  and  known  not  whether  we  were 
worthy  of  love  or  hatred?  What  if  we  should  behold 
the  face  of  Divincst  Majesty  gaze  upon  us  even  for  one 
moment  in  tenderness?  And  yet,  unless  we  sec  it  in  un- 
utterable wrath,  this  will  be.  But  what  then?  Shall  we 
see  it  forever?  Shall  our  eyes  gaze  on  and  on,  and  feast 
themselves  on  that  sight  for  all  eternity?  .  .  .  Ah! 
not  yet;  we  must  lose  sight  of  that  vision  of  delight ;  it 
must  bo  withdrawn  from  us— not,  thank  God,  in  anger, 
but  in  sorrow.  Oh  !  what  arc  the  pains  of  Purgatory, 
what  the  burning  of  its  fire,  in  comparison  with  the  suf- 
fering which  the  soul  endures  when  separated,  even  for 
a  moment,  from  her  God?  Who  can  tell,  who  can  under- 
stand, who  can  even  faintly  guess,  what  will  be  the  an- 
guish of  longing  which  shall  consume  our  very  being? 
But  why  must  this  be?  Why  docs  love,  infmitc,  tender 
love,  inflict  such  intense  pain?  Why  docs  the  parent 
turn  away  from  his  child,  and  forbid  him  his  presence  for 
a  time  ?  Is  it  that  he  loves  him  less  than  when  he  lav- 
ished on  him  the  tendcrest  caresses?  .  .  .  Whv,  but 
because  suffering  is  needed  as  an  atonement  to  justice, 
because  love  cannot  be  perfected  without  fear.  "It  is 
here  tried  and  purified,  but  hath  in  Heaven  its  perfect 
rest."  Oh  !  the  love  of  Purgatory  !  we  shall  never  know 
it,  or  understand  it,  until  we  are  there.  Yes,  we  cannot 
but  think  that  the  greatest,  the  keenest  suffering  of  the 
soul  will  be  the  remembrance  of  that  which  it  has  seen 


II! 


354 


PURGATORY. 


for  a  passinj^  moment,  and  the  pining  to  behold  again 
and  forever  the  lace  of  God.  It  has  been  revealed  to 
vSaints  that  so  intense  is  this  desire,  that  the  soul  would 
gladly  place  itself  even  in  the  most  fearful  tortures,  could 
it  thus  become  more  quickly  purged  from  that  whicii 
withholds  it  from  the  presence  of  God.  Did  we  but  well 
consider,  and  enter  into  this  feeling,  we  should  be  much 
more  careful  about  our  imperfections  and  our  venial  sins. 

*  -A  *  •;<•  -A-  ¥t  x- 

The  Saints  have  ever  desired  suffering,  and  consider  it 
as  the  greatest  favor  which  could  be  bestowed  upon 
them  ;  not  that  it  is  in  itself  desirable,  but  because  it  per- 
fects love.  Let  us,  then,  we  who  are  not  Saints,  think  of 
Purgatory  with  more  affection ;  let  us  rejoice*  that,  if  we 
are  not  privileged  to  have  keen,  unearthly  anguish  in  this 
life,  we  shall  yet  suffer,  and  suffer  intensely,  in  the  next. 
Our  love  will  be  purified  ;  our  dross  be  purged  away  ;  the 
weary  pain  which  we  feel  continually  when  we  think  how 
vile  we  are  in  the  sight  of  God,  how  the  eye  of  Jesus, 
with  all  its  tenderness,  must  often  turn  from  us  in  sorrow 
— the  weary  pain,  the  deep  degradation  of  misery  and 
sin,  will  one  day  cease ;  we  shall  not  tremble  under  our 
Father's  eye,  or  long  to  hide  ourselves  from  our  Father's 
countenance.  Now  we  must  often  feel,  when  trying  with 
our  whole  hearts  to  please  God,  how  impure,  how  sullied 
we  are  before  Him.  Our  pride,  our  vanity,  our  impa- 
tience, our  self-love,  are  all  there.  God  sees  them  ;  how 
can  He,  then,  look  on  us  as  we  desire  He  should  ?  And 
often  we  almost  long  to  be  in  those  purging  flames,  even 
should  it  be  for  years  and  years,  that  this  vileness  might 
be  burned  away. 


hold  again 
evcaled  to 
soul  would 
ures,  could 
;hat  which 
/e  but  well 
1  be  much 
i^cnial  sins. 

.y. 

consider  it 
wed   upon 
use  it  per- 
is, think  of 
that,  if  we 
lish  in  this 
1  the  next, 
iway ;  the 
think  how 
of  Jesus, 
in  sorrow 
lisery  and 
inder  our 
r  Father's 
•ying  with 
Dw  sullied 
nir  impa- 
lem  ;  how 
Id?     And 
mes,  even 
ess  might 


i  ^ 


. 


PART   V. 


LEGENDARY  AND  POETICAL, 


Well  beseems 
That  we  should  help  them  wash  away  the  stains 
They  carried  hence;  that  so,  made  pure  and  light, 
They  may  sjiring  upward  to  tlie  starry  spheres. 
Ah!  so  may  mercy  tempered  justice  rid 
Your  burdens  speedily;  that  ye  have  power 
To  stretch  your  wing,  which  e'en  to  your  desire 
Shall  lift  you. 

—  Dante, 


^ 


" 


LEGENDARY  AND  POETICAL. 


DIES   IRJE. 

The  day  of  wrath,  that  dreadful  day 
Shall  the  whole  world  in  ashes  lay, 
As  David  and  Sybils  say. 

What  horror  will  invade  the  mind, 

When  the  strict  Jud^rc,  who  would  be  kind, 

Shall  have  few  venial  faults  to  find! 

The  last  loud  trumpet's  wondrous  sound 
Must  thro'  the  rending  tombs  rebound, 
And  wake  the  nations  underground. 

Nature  and  death  shall  with  surprise 

Behold  the  pale  ofiendcr  rise. 

And  view  the  Judge  with  conscious  eyes. 

Then  shall  with  universal  dread, 
The  sacred  mystic  book  be  read, 
To  try  the  living  and  the  dead. 

The  Judge  ascends  His  awful  throne. 
He  makes  each  secret  sin  be  known. 
And  all  with  shame  confess  their  own. 

O  then  !  what  int'rest  shall  I  make, 

To  save  my  last  important  stake. 

When  the  most  just  have  cause  to  quake ! 

Thou  mighty  formidable  King ! 
Thou  mercy's  unexhausted  spring  ! 
Some  comfortable  pity  bring. 


358  PURGATORY. 

Forget  not  what  my  ransom  cost, 
Nor  let  my  dcar-bou^lit  soul  be  lost, 
In  storms  of  guilty  terror  tost. 

Thou,  who  for  mc  didst  feel  such  pain, 
Whose  precious  blood  the  cross  did  stain, 
Let  not  those  agonies  be  vain. 

Thou  whom  avcnj^ing  powers  obey. 
Cancel  my  debt  (too  great  to  pay) 
Before  the  said  accounting  day. 

Surrounded  with  amazing  fears. 
Whose  load  my  soul  with  anr'iisn  hears, 
I  sigh,  I  weep,  accept  my  tears. 

Thou,  who  wast  mov'd  with  INIary's  grief, 

And  by  absolving  of  the  tliicf, 

Hast  givxMi  me  hope,  now  give  relief. 

Reject  not  my  unworthy  prayer. 
Preserve  mc  from  the  dangerous  snare, 
Which  death  and  gaping  hell  prepare. 

Give  my  exalted  soul  a  place 
Among  the  chosen  right  hand  race. 
The  sons  of  God,  and  heirs  of  grace. 

From  that  insatiate  abyss, 

Where  flames  devour  and  serpents  hiss, 

Promote  mc  to  Thy  scat  of  bliss. 

Prostrate,  my  contrite  heart  I  rend. 
My  God,  my  Father,  and  my  Friend  : 
Do  not  forsake  me  in  my  end. 

Well  may  they  curse  their  second  birth, 

Who  rise  to  a  surviving  death. 

Thou  great  Creator  of  mankind, 

Let  guilty  man  compassion  fmd. — Amen. 


LEGENDARY   AND   rOETICAL. 


359 


AUTHORSHIP   OF  THE  DIES  IHM. 

O'BRIF.N." 

The  authorship  of  the  "  Dies  Ircc"  seems  the  most  dif- 
ficult to  settle.  This  much,  however,  is  certain  :  that  lie 
^vh()  lias  the  strongest  claims  to  it  is  Latino  Orsini,  gen- 
erally styled  Frangipajii,  whom  his  maternal  uncle,  Pope 
Nicholas  III.  (Gastano  Orsini),  raised  to  the  cardinalate  in 
1278.  He  was  more  generally  known  by  the  name  of 
Cardinal  Malabranca,  and  was,  at  first,  a  mcuiber  of  the 
Order  of  St.  Dominic.  (See  Dublin  Review,  Vol.  XX., 
1846;  Gavantus,  Thesaur.  Sacr.  Rit.,  p.  490.) 

As  this  sacred  hymn  is  conceded  to  be  one  of  the 
grandest  that  has  ever  been  written,  it  is  but  natural  to 
expect  that  the  number  of  authors  claiming  it  would  be 
very  large.  Some  even  have  attributed  it  to  Pope 
Gregory  the  Great,  who  lived  as  far  back  as  the  year 
604.  St.  Bernard,  too,  is  mentioned  in  connection  with 
it,  and  so  are  several  others ;  but  as  it  is  hardly  necessary 
to  mention  all,  we  shall  only  say  that,  after  Cardinal  Orsini, 
the  claims  to  it  on  the  part  of  Thomas  de  Celano,  of  the 
Order  of  Franciscans  Minor,  are  the  greatest.  There  is 
very  little  reason  for  attributing  it  to  Father  Humbert, 
the  fifth  general  of  the  Dominicans  in  1273;  and  hardly 
any  at  all  for  accrediting  it  to  Augustinus  dc  Biella,  of 
the  Order  of  Augustinian  Eremites.  A  very  widely  cir- 
culated opinion  is  that  the  "  Dies  Ira:,"  as  it  now  stands, 
is  but  an  improved  form  of  a  Sequence  which  was  long  in 
use  before  the  age  of  any  of  those  authors  whom  we  have 
cited.  Gavantus  gives  us,  at  page  490  of  his  "•  Thesaurus 
of  Sacred  Rites,"  a  few  stanzas  of  this  ancient  sequence.'- 

'  Rev.  John  O'Brien,  A.M.,  Prof,  of  Sacred  Liturgy  in  Mount  St.  Mary's 
College,  Emmettsburg,  Md. 

*  We  subjoin  this  Latin  stanza  : 

Cum  recorder  moriturus, 

Quid  post  mortem  sim  futurus, 

Terror  tcrret  nic  venturus, 

Ouem  expccto  non  securus  : 


"in! 


(k 


3C0 


rUKUATUKY. 


* 


4f 


* 


■3f 


Tn  repeat  wliat  learned  critics  of  every  denoini nation 
under  heaven  have  said  in  praise  of  lliis  marvellous  hvmn, 
would  indeed  be  a  (lillieult  task.  One  of  its  j^reatest  en- 
eoiniums  is,  that  there  is  hardly  a  lan<:^uajj;e  in  Iuir()|)e 
into  which  it  lias  not  been  translated  ;  it  has  even  found 
its  way  into  (ireek  and  1  lebrew  -  into  the  former,  throu.iL^h 
an  Knf^lish  missionary  of  Syria,  named  Ilildner;  and  into 
the  latter,  by  S|)lieth,  a  celebrated  Orientalist.  Mozart 
avowed  his  extreme  admiration  of  it,  and  so  did  Dr. 
Johnson,  wSir  Walter  Scott,  and  Jeremy  Taylor,  besides 
hosts  of  others.  The  encomium  i)assed  upon  it  by  wSchalf 
is  thus  ij;'iven  in  his  own  words:  "  This  marvellous  hymn 
is  the  acknovvledi^ed  master-piece  of  Latin  ])()etry  and  the 
most  sublime  of  all  uninspired  hymns.  Tiic  secret  of  its 
irresistible  power  lies  in  the  awful  i^randeur  of  the  theme, 
the  intense  earnestness  and  i)athos  of  the  i)oet,  the  simple 
majestv  and  solemn  music  of  its  lan^-uajj^e,  the  stately 
metre,  the  triple  rhyme,  and  the  vocal  assonances,  chosen 
in  strikin^i^  adaptation — all  combininjj^  to  produce  an  over- 
wdielminjj^  effect,  as  if  we  heard  the  linal  crash  of  the  uni- 
verse, the  commotion  of  the  openinj^  oraves,  the  trumpet 
of  the  archang'cl  summonin<2^  the  quick  and  the  dead,  and 
saw  the  Kini^  'of  tremendous  majesty'  seated  on  the 
throne  of  justice  and  mercy,  and  ready  to  dispense  ever- 
lasting life,  or  everlasting  woe."  (Sec  "  Latin  Hymns," 
Vol.  L  p.  392,  by  Prof.  ALarch,  of  Lafayette  College,  Pa.) 

The  music  of  this  hymn  formed  a  chief  part  in  the  fame 
of  Mozart;  and  it  is  said,  and  not  without  reason,  that  it 
contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  hasten  his  death,  for  so 
excited  did  he  become  over  its  awe-enkindling  senti- 
ments  while  writing  his  celebrated  "  ]\Lass  of  Requiem," 
that  a  sort  of  minor  paralysis  seized  his  whole  frame,  so 


Tcrret  dies  me  tcrroris. 
Dies  irrc,  ac  furoris, 
Dies  luctus,  ac  mccroris, 
Dies  ultrix  peccatoiis, 
Dies  ira",  dies  ilia,  etc,  etc. 


li:(;eni)auv  and  inumk  ai.. 


361 


nomination 

Ions  hymn, 

greatest  cn- 

in  luiropc 

L'vcn  found 

cr,  tliron,i;li 

r ;  and  into 

;t.     Mozart 

so  did   Dr. 

lor,  besides 

t  by  Schalf 

llous  iiymn 

try  and  the 

ecrct  of  its 

the  tliemc, 

the  simple 

tlie  stately 

,ces,  cliosen 

c  an  over- 

)f  the  II ni- 

e  trumpet 

dead,  and 

cd  on   the 

ense  ever- 

Hymns," 

llcffc,  Pa.) 

1  the  fame 

)n,  that  it 

atli,  for  so 

[n<^  senti- 

>equiem," 

frame,  so 


^P 


tliat  he  was  heard  to  say:  "  1  am  certain  that  I  am  writinu^ 
this  Keciuicm  for  myseU.  It  will  bj  my  funeral  service." 
lie  never  livetl  to  linish  it;  the  credit  of  havini!^  done  so 
beloni^s  to  Sussmaycr,  a  man  of  jj^reat  musical  attain- 
ments, and  a  most  intimate  friend  of  the  Mozart  family. — 
Dublin  Ju'-i'ifw,  \'ol.  I.,  May,  1S36. 

The  allusion  to  the  sibyl  in  the  third  line  of  the  first 
stanza,  "Teste  David  cum  Sybilla,"  '  has  <j^iyen  rise  to  a 
<j;"ood  deal  of  anxious  incpiiry  ;  and  so  very  stran<j^e  did  it 
sountl  to  French  ears  at  its  introduction  into  the  sacred 
hymnoloji^y  of  the  Church,  that  the  I'arisian  rituals  sub- 
stituted in  its  place  the  line,  Critcis  cxpandcns  vcxilla. 
The  difficulty  is,  however,  easily  overcome  if  wc  bear  in 
mind  that  many  of  the  early  Fathers  held  that  Almi<;hty 
(iod  made  use  of  these  sibyls  to  promuli^ate  I  Fis  truths  in 
just  the  same  way  as  lie  did  of  Balaam  of  okl,  and  many 
others  like  him.  The  great  St.  Aui^ustine  has  written 
much  on  this  subject  in  his  "  City  of  God  ;  "  and  the 
reader  may  form  some  idea  of  the  estimation  in  which 
these  sibyls  were  held,  when  he  is  told  that  the  world- 
renowned  Michael  y\ni^elo  made  them  the  subject  (jf  one 
of  his  greatest  paintings.  ...  In  the  opinions  of  tiie 
ablest  critics  it  was  the  Erythrean  sibyl  who  uttered  the 
celebrated  prediction  about  the  advent  of  our  Divines 
Lord  and  I  lis  final  coming  at  the  last  day  to  judge  the 
living  and  the  dead.  .  .  .  The  part  of  the  sibyl's  re- 
sponse which  referred  particularly  to  the  Day  of  Judg- 
ment was  written  (as  an  acrostic)  on  the  letters  of  Sotcr, 
or  Saviour.  It  is  given  as  follows  in  the  translation  of 
the  "  City  of  God  "  of  St.  Augustine  : 

"  Sounding,  the  arcliangel's  trumpet  shall  peal  down  from  heaven, 
Over  the  wicked  who  groan  in  their  guilt  and  their  manifold  sorrows, 
Trembling,  the  earth  shall  be  opened,  revealing  chaos  and  hell. 
Every  king  before  God  shall  stand  on  that  day  to  be  judged  ; 
Rivers  of  fire  and  of  brimstone  shall  fall  from  the  heavens." 

*  As  David  and  Sibyls  say. 


^«i£SSi'. 


362 


PURGATORY. 


DANTE'S   "PURGATORIO." 

The  brio'ht  sun  was  risen 
More  than  two  lioiirs  alott ;  and  to  the  sea 
JNly  looks  were  turned.    '^  Fear  not,"  my  master  cried. 
*'  y\ssured  we  are  at  liappy  point.     Thv  strength 
Shrink  not,  but  rise  dilated.     Thou  art  come 
To  J'urgatory  now.     Lo  !  there  the  chff 
That  circhng  bounds  it.     Lo  !  the  entrance  there, 
Where  it  doth  seem  disparted."     .     .     . 

Reader !  thou  markest  how  my  theme  doth  rise  ; 
Nor  wonder,  therefore,  if  more  artfully 
I  prop  the  structure.     Nearer  now  we  drew, 
Arrived  whence,  in  that  part  where  first  a  breach 
As  of  a  n^all  appeared,  I  could  descry 
A  portal,  and  three  steps  beneath,  that  led 
For  inlet  there,  of  different  color  each  ; 
And  one  who  watched,  but  spake  not  yet  a  word, 
As  more  and  more  mine  eye  did  stretch  its  view, 
1  marked  him  seated  on  the  highest  step, 
In  visage  such  as  past  mv  power  to  bear. 
Grasped  in  his  hand,  a  naked  sword  glanced  back 
The  rays  so  towards  me,  that  I  oft  in  vain 
My  sight  directed.     "  Speak  from  whence  ye  stand," 
1  le  cried  ;   "  What  would  ye  ?  Where  is  your  escort  ? 
Take  liecd  your  coming  upward  harm  ye  not." 

"  A  heavenly  dame,  not  skilless  of  these  things," 
Replied  the  instructor,  "  told  us,  even  now, 
*  Pass  that  way,  here  the  gate  is.'  "     ''  And  may  she. 
Befriending,  prosper  your  ascent,"  resumed 
The  courteous  keeper  of  the  gate.    "  Come,  then, 
Before  our  steps."     We  straightway  thither  came. 

The  lowest  stair  was  marble  wdiitc,  so  smooth 
And  polished,  that  therein  my  mirrored  form 
Distinct  1  saw.     The  next  of  hue  more  dark 
Than  sablest  grain,  a  rough  and  singed  block 


4^ 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 


><33 


aster  cried. 

trength 

►me 

CO  there, 

doth  rise  ; 


-ew, 

a  breach 


t  a  word, 
its  view, 

• 

>ccd  back 
in 

:c  ye  stand," 
our  escort  ? 

c  not. 

e  thino-s," 

pw, 

id  may  she, 
ncd 

me,  then, 
ther  came. 

smooth 

form 

lark 

jlock 


i 


., 


Cracked  lengthwise  and  across.     The  third,  that  lay 

Massy  above,  seemed  porphyry,  that  flamed 

Red  as  the  life-blood  si)()uting  from  a  vein. 

On  this  God's  Angel  either  foot  susti'ined, 

Upon  the  threshold  seated,  whicli  ap})eared 

A  rock  of  diamond.     Up  the  trinal  steps 

My  leader  cheerily  drew  me.     "  Ask,"  said  he, 

"  With  humble  heart,  that  he  unbar  the  bolt." 

Piously  at  his  holy  feet  devolved 

T  cast  me,  praying  him,  for  pity's  sake, 

That  he  would  open  to  me;  but  first  fell 

Thrice  on  my  bosom  prostrate.     Seven  times 

The  letter  that  denotes  the  inward  stain. 

He,  on  my  forehead,  witli  the  blunted  point 

Of  his  drawn  sword,  inscribed.  And  "  Look,"  he  cried, 

"  When  entered,  that  thou  wash  these  scars  away." 

Ashes,  or  earth  ta'en  dry  out  of  the  ground, 

Were  of  one  color  with  the  robe  he  wore. 

From  underneath  that  vestment  forth  he  drew 

Two  keys,  of  metal  twain;  the  one  v/as  gold, 

Its  fellow,  silver.     With  the  })allid  first, 

And  next  the  burnished,  he  so  j^lycd  the  gate. 

As  to  content  me  well.     "  Whenever  one 

Faileth  of  these  that  in  the  key-hole  straiglit 

It  turn  not,  to  this  alley  then  expect 

Access  in  vain."     Such  were  the  words  he  spake. 

"  One  is  more  precious  :  but  the  other  needs 

Skill  and  sagacity,  large  share  of  each, 

Ere  its  good  task  to  disengage  the  knot 

Be  worthily  performed.     From  Peter  these 

1  hold,  of  him  instructed  that  I  err 

Rather  in  opening,  than  in  keeping  fast ; 

So  but  the  suppliant  at  my  feet  implore." 

Then  of  that  hallowed  gate  he  thrust  the  door, 
Exclaiming,  "  Enter,  but  this  warning  hear: 
Me  forth  again  departs  who  looks  behind." 

As  in  the  hinges  of  that  sacred  ward 
The  swivels  turned,  sonorous  metal  strong, 


364  PURGATORY. 

Harsh  was  the  <:^rating  ;  nor  so  surhly 

Rocked  the  Tarpcian  when  by  force  bereft 

Of  i^ood  Metelliis,  thenceforth  from  his  loss 

To  leanness  doomed.     Attentively  I  turned, 

Listening  the  thunder  that  first  issued  forth ; 

And  '•  We  praise  Thee,  O  God,"  methought  I  heard, 

In  accents  blended  with  sweet  melody. 

The  strains  came  o'er  mine  ear,  e'en  as  the  sound 

Of  choral  voices,  that  in  solemn  chant 

With  organ  mingle,  and,  now  high  and  clear 

Come  swelling,  now  float  indistinct  away. — Caiiio  IX. 


Hell's  dunncst  gloom,  or  night  unlustrous,  dark, 
Of  every  planet  reft,  and  palled  in  clouds. 
Did  never  spread  before  the  sight  a  veil 
In  thickness  like  that  fog,  nor  to  the  sense 
So  palpable  and  gross.     Entering  its  shade, 
jNIinc  eye  endured  not  with  unclosed  lids; 
Which  marking,  near  me  drew  the  faithful  guide, 
Offering  me  his  shoulder  for  a  stay-. 

As  the  blind  man  behind  his  leader  walks, 
Lest  he  should  err,  or  stumble  unawares 
On  what  might  harm  him,  or  perhaps  destroy  ; 
I  journeyed  through  that  bitter  air  and  foul. 
Still  listening  to  my  escort's  warning  voice, 
"  Look  tliat  from  me  thou  part  not."    Straight  I  heard 
Voices,  and  each  one  seemed  to  pray  for  peace, 
And  for  compassion  to  the  Lamb  of  God 
That  taketh  sins  awa}-.     The  prelude  still 
Was  "  Agnus  Dei ;  "  and,  through  all  the  choir, 
One  voice,  one  measure  ran,  that  perfect  seemed 
The  concord  of  their  song.     "  Are  these  I  hear 
Spirits,  O  INIaster?"  I  exclaimed;  and  he, 
*'  Thou  aim'st  aright :  these  loose  the  bonds  of  wrath." 

— Canto  X]  7. 

-X-  -»  *  -k  'k  *  r? 

Forthwith  from  every  side  a  shout  a;osc 
So  vehement,  that  suddenly  my  guide 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAE. 


565 


t 

SS 

d, 

ht  I  heard, 

e  sound 

car 

— Canto  IX. 

)us,  dark, 


c 
:1c, 


il  guide. 


[ks, 

stroy  ; 

)ul, 

cc, 

ight  I  heard 

peace, 


choir, 
seemed 
I  hear 

» 

-  } 

s  of  wrath." 

iDllO  X]  I. 


Drew  near,  and  cried  :  "Doubt  not,  while  I  conduct  thee." 

''  Glory  !  "  all  shouted  (such  the  sounds  mine  ear 

Gathered  from  those  who  near  mc  swelled  the  sounds), 

''  Glory  in  the  liighest  be  to  God  !  "     Wc  stood 

Immovably  suspended,  like  to  those, 

The  shepherds,  who  hrst  heard  in  ]]ethlehem's  field 

That  song:  till  ceased  the  trembling,  and  the  song 

Was  ended  :  then  our  hallow^cd  path  resumed. 

Eyeing  the  prostrate  shadows,  who  renewed 

Their  customed  mourning.     Never  in  my  breast 

Did  ignorance  so  struggle  with  desire 

Of  knowledge,  if  my  memory  do  not  err. 

As  in  that  moment;  nor,  through  haste,  dared  I 

To  question,  nor  myself  could  aught  discern. 

So  on  I  fared,  in  thoughtfulness  and  dreaci.    -Canto  XX. 

%  ^!:  'k  ^:  •;•.  • :  'k 

Now  the  last  flexure  of  our  way  wc  n:.xhed  ; 
And,  to  the  right  hand  turning,  other  care 
Awaits  us.     Here  the  rocky  precipice 
Hurls  forth  redundant  flames ;  and  from  the  rim 
A  blast  up-blown,  with  forcible  rebuff 
Driveth  them  back,  sequestered  from  its  bound. 

Behooved  us,  one  by  one,  along  the  side, 
That  bordered  on  the  void,  to  pass;  and  I 
Feared  on  one  hand  the  fire,  on  the  other  feared 
Headlong  to  fall :  when  thus  the  instructor  warned  : 
"  Strict  rein  must  in  this  placv.  direct  the  eyes. 
A  little  swerv'-ig  and  the  way  is  lost." 

Then  from  the  bosom  of  the  burning  mass, 
'*  O  God  of  mercy !  "  heard  I  sung,  and  felt 
No  less  desire  to  turn.     And  v/hcn  I  saw 
Spirits  along  the  flame  proceeding,  I 
Between  their  footsteps  and  mine  own  was  fain 
To  share  by  turns  my  vicv/.     At  the  h)-mn's  close 
They  shouted  loud,  "  I  do  not  know  a  man  ;  "  ' 
Then  in  low  voice  again  took  up  the  strain. — Ca)ito  XXV. 

Ht  H(  'k  =k  »k  -k  'k 


'  I  do  not  kiWiO  a  man.     St.  Luke,  i.  34. 


iLJ".!'i'.ii"'"M 'in— HiK&'L 


m    n 


it 


\66 


rURGATORV. 


Now  was  the  sun^  so  stationed,  as  when  first 
His  early  radiance  ([uivers  on  the  heigiits 
Wlicrc   streamed    his    jNIakcr's    blood ;    while    Libra 

hangs 
Above  Hesperian  Ebro ;  and  new  fires, 
Meridian,  Mash  on  Ganges'  yellow  tide. 

So  day  was  sinking,  when  the  Angel  of  God 
Appeared  before  us.     Joy  was  in  his  mien. 
Forth  of  the  flame  he  stood — upon  tlie  brink  ; 
And  with  a  voice,  whose  lively  clearness  far 
Surpassed  our  human,  "  Blessed  are  the  pure 
In  heart,"  he  sang ;  then,  near  him  as  we  came, 
"  Go  ye  not  further,  holy  spirits,"  he  cried, 
'*  Ere  the  fire  pierce  you  ;  enter  in,  and  list 
Attentive  to  the  song  ye  hear  from  thence." 

I,  when  I  heard  his  saying,  was  as  one 
Laid  in  the  grave.     My  hands  together  clasped, 
And  upward  stretching,  on  the  fire  I  looked. 
And  busy  fancy  conjured  up  the  forms, 
Ercwhilc  beheld  alive,  consumed  in  llames. 

—Or/ito  xxvir. 


'  At  Jerusalem  it  was  dawn,  in  Spain  midnight,  and   in   India  noonday, 
while  it  was  sunset  in  I'uryalorv. 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


1^7 


first 

lilc    Libra 


jod 

k; 

ir 
I  re 
imc, 


♦ 


sped, 
XXVIL 

ia   noonday, 


t 


HAMLET   AND   THE   GHOST. 

SIIAKr.Sl'KAKK, 

Hamlet.  Where  wilt  thou  lead  mc  ?    Speak,  I'll  go  no 
further. 

Ghost.  Mark  me. 

Ham.  I  will. 

Ghost.  AFy  hour  is  almost  come. 

When  I  to  sidphurous  and  tormenting  llames 

Must  render  up  myself. 

Ham.  Alas  !  poor  ghost ! 

Ghost,  l^ity  me  not,  but  lend  thy  serious  hearing 
To  what  I  shall  unl   ^ 

Ham.  Speak,  I  am  bound  to  liear. 

Ghost.  So  art  thou  to  revenge,  when  thou  shalt  hear. 

Ham.  What? 

Ghost,  I  am  thy  father's  spirit; 
Doomed  for  a  certain  time  to  walk  the  nip'ht ; 
And,  for  the  day,  confined  to  fast  in  fires, 
Till  the  foul  crimes,  done  in  my  days  of  nature, 
Are  burnt  and  purged  away.     But  that  I  am  forbid 
To  tell  the  secrets  of  my  prison-house, 
I  could  a  tale  unfold,  wliose  lightest  word 
Would  harrow  up  thy  soul ;  freeze  thy  young  blood  ; 
Make  thy  two  eyes,  like  stars,  start  from  their  spiicres ; 
Thy  knotted  and  combined  locks  to  part. 
And  each  particular  hair  to  stand  on  end, 
Like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine  ; 
But  this  eternal  blason  must  not  be 
To  cars  of  flesh  and  blood. 


i 


>-ieiafe««i*diffiff A^^  ,4*,, 


368 


PURGATORY. 


! 


'>l,       I 


CALDERON'S  "PURGATORY  OF  ST.  PATRICK." 

Ix  a  work  of  this  nature,  it  is  essential  to  its  purpose 
that  the  compiler  should  take  cognizance  of  the  many 
legends,  wild  and  extravagant  as  some  of  them  are,  which 
have  been  current  at  various  times  and  amongst  various 
peoples,  on  the  subject  of  Purgatory.  For  they  have, 
indeed,  a  deep  signihcance,  proving  how  strong  a  hold 
this  belief  in  a  middle  state  of  souls  has  taken  on  the  pop- 
ular mind.  They  are,  in  a  certain  sense,  a  part  of  Cath- 
olic tradition,  and  have  to  do  with  what  is  called  Cath- 
olic instinct.  They  prove  that  this  dogma  of  the  Church 
has  found  a  home  in  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  become 
familiar  to  them,  as  the  tales  of  childhood  whispered 
around  the  winter  hearth.  If  it  appear  now  and  then,  in 
r^ome  such  uncouth  disguise,  as  that  which  we  are  about 
to  present  to  our  readers^  we  see,  nevertheless,  through 
it  ail  the  truth,  or  rather  the  fragments  of  truth,  such  as 
is  often  found  floating  about  through  Europe  on  tlie 
breath  of  tradition.  The  curious  legend  has  been  turned 
by  Calderon  from  dross  into  precious  gold.  He  presents 
it  to  us  in  iiis  "■  Purgatory  of  St.  Patrick"  with  a  beauty 
that  divests  it  of  much  of  its  native  wildness.  He  pre- 
sumably drew  his  materials  for  the  drama  from  a  work, 
*'  The  Life  and  Purgatory  of  St.  Patrick,"  published  in 
Spain  in  1627  by  Montalvan,  a  Spanish  dramatist.  It 
was  translated  into  French  by  a  Franciscan  priest  i^nd 
doctor  of  theology,  Franc^ois  Bouillon ;  .as  also  into  Por- 
tuguese by  Father  INIanuel  Caldeira.  When  this  work 
was  issued  Calderon  was  with  the  army  in  Flanders.  He 
must  have  seen  it,  his  brilliant  imagination  at  once 
taking  hold  of  it  as  the  ground  work  for  a  splendid  effort 
of  his  genius. 

We  cite  here  an  extract  from  an  introduction  by  Denis 
Florence  MacCarthy  to  his  translation  of  Calderon's 
"  Purgatory  of  St.  Patrick  "  It  will  be  of  interest  as  fol- 
lowing the  thread  of  this  weird  legend  : 


LEGEXDARV   AND    TOETICAI, 


^'9 


[CK." 

s  purpose 
the  many 
ire,  which 
st  various 
ley  have, 
ig  a  hold 
1  the  pop- 
:  of  Cath- 
iled  Cath- 
ie Church 
d  become 
vhispered 
d  then,  in 
are  about 
;,  through 
h,  such  as 
c   on    the 
en  turned 
presents 
a  beauty 
He  prc- 
n  a  work, 
)lished  in 
latist.     It 
riest  pnd 
into  Por- 
his  work 
Jers.    He 
at   once 
lid  effort 

)y  Denis 
aldcron's 
:st  as  fol- 


"  The  curious  history  of  Ludovico  Enio,  on  which  tiie 
principal  interest  of  this  play  depends,  has  been  alluded 
to,  and  given  more  or  less  fully  by  many  ancient 
authors.  The  name,  though  slightly  altered  bv  the  dif- 
ferent persons  who  have  mentioned  him,  can  easily  be 
recognized  as  the  same  in  all,  whether  as  Owen,  Oien, 
Owain,  Eogan,  luienius,  or  Ennius.  I'erhaps  the  earliest 
allusion  to  him  in  any  printed  luiglish  work  is  that  con- 
tained in  '  Ranulph  ITidgen's  Polychronicon,'  pub- 
lished at  Westminster  by  Wynkin  de  Worde,  in  1493  : 
*  In  this  Steven's  tyme,  a  knyght  that  hvght  Owen  wcnte 
into  the  Purgatory  of  the  second  Patrick,  abbot,  and  not 
byshoj^pe.  lie  came  agayne  and  dwelled  in  the  abbaye 
of  Ludene  of  Whytc  Monks  in  Irlonde,  and  toldc  of  joyes 
and  of  paynes  that  he  had  seen.' 

The  history  of  Enio  had,  however,  existed  in  manu- 
script for  nearly  three  centuries  and  a  half  before  the 
Polychronicon  was  printed;  it  had  been  written  by 
Henry,  the  Monk  of  Saltcrey,  in  Huntingdonshire,  from 
the  account  which  he  had  received  from  Gilbert,  a  Cis- 
tercian monk  of  the  Abbey  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary 
of  Luden,  or  Louth,  above  mentioned.'  Colgan,  after 
collating  this  manuscript  with  two  others  on  the  same 
subject,  which  he  had  seen,  printed  it  nearly  in  full  in  his 
'*  Trias."  .  .  .  Matthew  Paris  had,  however,  before 
this,  in  his  "  History  of  England,"  under  date  1 153,  given 
a  full  account  of  the  adventures  of  CEnus  in  the  Purga- 
tory. .  .  .  Sir  Walter  Scott  mentions,  in  his  "  Bor- 
der jNIinstreis) ,"  that  there  is  a  curious  Metrical  Ro- 
mance in  the  Advocates'  Library  of  Edinburgh,  called 
'*  The  Legend  of  Sir  Owain,"  relating  his  adventures  in 
St.  Patrick's  Purgatory  ;  he  gives  some  stanzas  fi'om  it, 
descriptive  of  the  knight's  passage  of  "The  Brig  o' 
Dread  ;  "  which,  in  the  legend,  is  placed  between  Purga- 
tory and  Paradise.  This  poem  is  supposed  to  have  been 
written  early  in  the  fourteenth  century. 

^  Colgan's  "Trias  Tluiumaturgrc,"'  p.  2S1  ;   V.'aic's  "Annals  of  Ireland," 
\.  D.  1497. 


iHMnma^n,^.^. 


t 


m 

•if 


i 


370 


rURGATORY. 


A  second  extract  on  llic  sul)jcci:,  taken  from  the  Essay 
by  Mr.  Wri,':;ht  on  the  "  Pur<^atory  of  St.  Patrick,"  pub- 
lislied  in  London  in  1844,  gives  still  further  information 
with  regard  to  it. 

•*  The  mode,"  he  says,  "  in  which  this  legend  was  made 
public  is  thus  told  in  the  Latin  narrative.  Gcrvasc  (tlie 
founder  and  first  Abbot  of  Louth,  in  Lincolnshire)  sent 
his  monk,  Gilbert,  to  the  king,  then  in  Ireland,  to  obtain 
a  grant  to  build  a  monastery  there.  Gilbert,  on  his 
arrival,  complained  to  the  king,  Henry  II.,  that  he  did 
not  understand  the  language  of  the  country.  The  king 
said  to  him, '  I  will  give  you  an  excellent  interpreter,'  and 
sent  him  the  knight  Owain,  who  remained  with  him 
during  the  time  he  was  occupied  in  building  the  monas- 
tery, and  rei)eated  to  him  frequently  the  story  of  his  ad- 
ventures in  l^urgatory.  Gilbert  and  his  companions  sub- 
sequently returned  to  England,  and  there  he  re})eated 
the  story,  and  some  one  said  he  thought  it  v/as  all  a 
dream,  to  which  Gilbert  answered  :  '  That  there  were 
some  v/ho  believed  that  those  who  entered  the  Purga- 
tory fell  into  a  trance,  and  saw  the  vision  in  the  spirit,  but 
that  the  knight  had  denied  this,  and  declared  that  the 
whole  was  seen  and  felt  really  in  the  body.'  Both  Gil- 
bert, from  whom  Henry  of  Salterey  received  the  story, 
and  the  bishop  of  the  diocese,  assured  him  that  many  per- 
ished in  this  Purgatory,  and  we/e  never  heard  of  afterwards. 

"  It  is  clear  from  the  allusion  to  it  in  Carsarius  of  Fleis- 
terbach,  that  already,  at  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory  had  become  famous 
throughout  Europe.  '  If  any  one  doubt  of  Pui'gatory,' 
says  this  writer,  '  let  him  go  to  Scotland  (/.  c,  Ireland,  to 
which  this  name  w^as  anciently  given),  and  enter  the  Pur- 
gatory of  St.  Patrick,  and  his  doubts  will  be  expelled.' 
This  recommendation  wms  frequently  acted  upon  in  that, 
and  particularly  in  the  following  century,  when  pilgrims 
from  all  parts  of  Europe,  some  of  them  men  of  rank 
and  wealth,  repaired  thither.  On  the  patent  rolls  in  the 
Tower  of  London,  under  the  year  1358,  we  have  an  in- 


LKGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 


3/1 


the  Essay 
ick,"  piib- 
itormatiou 

was  made 
rva>c  Uhc 
diirc)  sent 
to  obtain 
■t,  on    liis 
at  he  did 
The  king- 
rcter,'  and 
with    him 
he  monas- 
of  his  ad- 
ni(jns  siib- 
rei)cated 
was  all  a 
lere  were 
le  Pur.i^a- 
spirit,  but 
1  that  the 
Both  Gil- 
he  story, 
"nany  per- 
tcrwards. 
^  of  Heis- 
hirteenth 
c   famous 
irgatory,' 
-eland,  to 
the  Pur- 
expelled.' 
n  in  that, 
pilgrims 
of  rank 
)lls  in  the 
ve  an  in- 


1' 


stance  of  testimonials  given  by  the  king,  Kdward  III.,  on 
the  same  chiy,  to  two  distinguished  foreigners,  one  a 
noble  Hungarian,  the  other  a  Lombard,  XichoUis  dc  Hcc- 
cariis,  of  their  having  faithiully  performed  this  pilgriiu- 
age.  And  still  later,  in  1397,  we  fmd  King  J^iichaid  11. 
granting  a  sale  conduet  to  visit  the  same  })lace  to  kav- 
mond.  Viscount  of  Perilhos,  Knight  of  Rhodes,  and 
Chamberlain  of  the  King  of  France,  with  twenty  men 
and  thirty  horses.  Raymond  de  Perilhos,  on  his  return 
to  his  native  country,  wrote  a  narrative  of  what  he  had 
seen,  in  the  dialect  of  the  Limousin  (Lcniosiiia/iir^iKi),  of 
which  a  Latin  version  was  printed  by  O'Sullivan  in  his 
'■  Hist  or  ill  Catholica  Ibcrnica.'  .  .  .  This  is  a  mere 
compilation  from  the  story  of  '  Henry  of  vSalterey,'  and 
begins,  like  that,  with  an  account  of  the  origin  of  the  Pur- 
gatory. He  represents  himself  as  having  been  first  a 
minister  to  Charles  V.  of  France,  and  subsequently  the 
intimate  friend  of  John  I.  of  Aragon,  after  whose  death 
(in  1395)  lie  was  seized  with  the  desire  of  knowing  liow 
he  was  treated  in  the  other  world,  and  determined,  like  a 
new  ^Fneas,  to  go  into  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory  in  search 
of  him.  He  saw  precisely  the  same  sights  as  the  knight, 
Owain,  but  (as  in  Calderon)  only  twelve  men  came  to 
him  in  the  hall  instead  of  fifteen,  and  in  the  fourth  hall  of 
punishments  he  saw  King  John  of  Aragon,  and  many 
others  of  his  friends  and  relations." 

We  will  now  select  from  the  drama  of  "  Calderon  "  a 
few  characteristic  passages,  to  show  how  this  subject  was 
treated  by  the  glowing  pen  and  fervid  fancy  of  the  great- 
est of  all  the  poets  of  Catholic  Spain,  whose  poetr}-,  in- 
deed, is  deserving  of  more  widespread  ap])reciation  than 
it  has  yet  received  at  the  hands  of  the  Catholic  reading 
public.  We  will  begin  with  those  lines  in  which  Ludo- 
vico  Enio,  the  hero  of  the  tale,  makes  known  his  identity 
to  King  Egerio. 

LUDOVICO.     Listen,  most  beautiful  divinity. 
For  thus  begins  the  story  of  my  life. 


fl 


372  PURGATORY. 

Great  Ej^cno,  King  of  TrcLind,  I 

Am  Ludovico  luilo  -  a  Christian  also — 

In  this  do  Patrick  and  myscU  agree, 

And  dilVcr,  being  Christians  both, 

And  yet  as  opposite  as  good  from  evil. 

But  ior  the  faith  which  I  sincerely  hold 

(So  greatly  do  I  estimate  its  worth), 

I  would  lay  down  a  hundred  thousand  lives — • 

Bear  witness,  thou  all-seeing  Lord  and  God. 

*  ->v  vv  *  -»  %  * 

All  crimes, 

Theft,  murder,  treason,  sacrilege,  betrayal 
Of  dearest  friends,  all  these  I  must  relate. 
For  these  are  all  my  glory  and  my  pride. 
In  one  of  Ireland's  many  islands  1 
Was  born,  and  much  do  I  suspect  that  all 
The  planets  seven,  in  wild  confusion  strange. 
Assisted  at  my  most  unhappy  birth. 

Me  proceeds  with  a  catalogue  of  his  crimes,  most  dark, 
indeed,  and  relates  how  St.  Patrick,  who  was  present, 
had  saved  him  from  shipwreck.  The  King,  however, 
who  is  a  pagan,  takes  the  Knight  into  his  service,  while 
he  bids  the  Saint  begone.  Before  they  part  Patrick  asks 
of  him  a  favor : 

Patrick.  This  one  boon  I  ask — 

Ludovico.    What  is  it? 

Patrick.  That,  alive  or  dead,  we  meet 

In  this  world  once  again. 
Ludovico.  Dost  thou  demand 

So  strange  and  dread  a  promise  from  me? 
Patrick.    Yes. 

Ludovico.    I  give  it  to  thee  then. 
Patrick.    And  I  accept  it. 

What  follows  is  from  a  conversation  between  Patrick 
and  the  King,  wherein  are  explained  many  of  the  truths 


-0 


LECENDAUV   AND   rOKTU'AI,. 


373 


k'CS — 


igc, 


jost  dark, 
present, 
however, 
ce,  while 
rick  asks 


mei' 


;.; 


4 


Patrick 
ic  truths 


of  faith,  incUulini^  the  existence  of  heaven  and  of  liell. 
Thus  tlie  Saint : 

Pairick.  There  are  more  places 

In  the  other  world  than  those  of 
Everlaslin^j^  pain  and  glory: 
Learn,  ()  Kin*;,  that  there's  another. 
Which  is  Purgatory  ;   whilher 
Flies  the  soul  that  has  departed 
In  a  state  of  <:jracc  ;   hut  bearing; 
Still  some  stains  of  sin  upon  it: 
For  with  these  no  soul  can  enter 
God's  pure  kinj^dom — there  it  dwelleth 
Till  it  |)urifies  and  burnetii 
vMl  the  dross  from  out  its  nature; 
Then  it  ilieth,  pure  and  limpid, 
Into  God's  divincst  presence. 

King.      So  30U  say,  but  I  have  nothing-, 

Save  your  own  words,  to  convince  me ; 

Give  me  of  the  soul's  existence 

Some  strong  proof— S(3me  indication — 

Somethimr  tangible  and  certain — 

Which  my  hands  may  feel  and  grasp  at. 

And  since  you  appear  so  powerful 

With  your  God,  you  can  imphjre  him, 

That  to  finish  my  conversion. 

He  may  show  some  real  being. 

Not  a  mere  ideal  essence, 

Which  all  men  can  touch  ;  remember, 

But  one  single  hour  rcmaincth 

For  this  task :  this  day  you  give  us 

Certain  proofs  of  pain  or  glory, 

Or  you  die  :  where  we  are  standing 

Let  your  God  display  his  wonders — 

And  since  we,  perhaps,  may  merit 

Neither  punishment  nor  glory, 

Let  the  other  place  be  shown  us, 

Which  you  say  is  Purgatory. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


,*' 


1/  /<^v. 


1.0 


I.I 


■  50     ■^" 


2.5 
2.2 

1.8 


1-25  1  1.4      1.6 

■• 6"     

► 

Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


4- 


\ 


4s^ 


o 


i\^ 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

'716)  872-4503 


'9>'- 


/. 


z. 


\\ 


^ 


I 


374  PURGATORY. 

Patrick  then  prays,  concluding  with  the  words  : 

*'  I  ask,  O  Lord,  may  from  Thy  hand  be  given, 

That  Purgatory,  Hell,  and  Heaven 

May  be  revealed  unto  those  mortals'  sight." 

An  Angel  then  descends  and  speaks  as  follows  : 

Angel.  Patrick,  God  has  heard  thy  prayer, 
He  has  listened  to  thy  vows ; 
And  as  thou  hast  ask'd,  allows 
Earth's  great  secrets  to  lie  bare. 
Seek  along  this  island  ground 
For  a  vast  and  darksome  cave, 
Whi  jh  restrains  the  lake's  dark  wave, 
And  supports  the  mountains  round  ; 
He  who  dares  to  go  therein, 
Having  first  contritely  told 
All  his  faults,  shall  there  behold 
Where  the  soul  is  purged  from  sin. 
He  shall  see  with  mortal  eyes 
Hell  itself — where  those  who  die 
In  their  sins  forever  lie. 
In  the  fire  that  never  dies. 
He  shall  see,  in  blest  fruition. 
Where  the  happy  spirits  dwell. 
But  of  this  be  sure  as  well — 
He  who  without  true  contrition 
Enters  there  to  idly  try 
What  the  cave  may  be,  doth  go 
To  his  death — he'll  suffer  woe 
While  the  Lord  doth  reign  on  high. 
W^ho  this  day  shall  set  you  free 
From  this  poor  world's  weariness; 
*  *  -A  *  * 

He  shall  grant  to  you,  in  pity. 
Bliss  undreamed  by  mortal  men — 
Making  thee  a  denizen 


LEGENDARY   AND    TOETICAL. 


375 


ds: 

be  given, 


sight." 


I 

I 


' » 


Of  his  own  celestial  citv. 

He  shall  to  the  world  [proclaim 

His  omnipotence  and  glory, 

By  the  wondrous  Piirgator}-, 

Which  shall  bear  thy  sainted  name. 

Polonia,  the  King's  daughter,  whom  Ludovico  had 
married  and  deserted,  having  first  tried  to  kill  her,  aj)- 
pears  upon  the  scene  just  as  the  King,  Patrick,  and  some 
others,  who  have  set  out  upon  their  quest  lor  the  Purga- 
tory, have  reached  a  gloomy  mountain  and  a  deep  cave. 
Polonia  relates  the  wonders  and  the  terrors  of  the  cavern 
through  which  she  has  passed.  Patrick  then  speaks  as 
follows : 

Patrick.     This  cave,  Egerio,  which  you  see,  conccaleth 
Many  mysteries  of  life  and  death, 
Not  for  him  Avhose  hardened  bosom  fceleth 
Nought  of  true  repentance  or  true  faith. 
But  he  who  freely  enters,  who  revcaleth 
All  his  sins  with  penitential  breath, 
Shall  endure  his  Purgatory  then, 
And  return  forgiven  back  again. 

Later  in  the  drama  we  find  Ludovico  desiring 

"  To  enter 
Into  Patrick's  Purgatory  ; 
Humbly  and  devoutly  keeping 
Thus  the  promise  that  I  gave  him." 

Again,  he  says  : 

"  I  have  faith  and  firm  reliance 
That  you  yet  shall  see  me  happy, 
If  in  God's  name  blessed  Patrick 
Aid  me  in  the  Purgatory." 

Having  confessed  his  sins  and  made  due  preparation, 
he  enters  the  cave.     On  his  return  hence,  the  Priest,  or 


n 


37^ 


rURGATORV. 


Canon  as  he  is  called,  bids  hiin  relate  the  wonders  he  has 
seen.  He  finds  himself  first  "in  thick  and  pitchy  dark- 
ness," he  hears  horrid  clang'or,  and  falls  down  at  lenj^th 
into  a  hall  of  jasper,  where  he  meets  with  twelve  grave 
men,  who  encourap^e  him,  and  bid  him  keep  up  his  cour- 
age amid  the  fearful  sights  he  is  to  behold  later  on.  At 
length  he  reaches  the  Purgatory : 

"  I  approached  another  quarter  ; 

There  it  seemed  that  many  spirits 

I  had  known  elsewhere,  were  gathered 

Into  one  vast  congregation. 

Where,  although  'twas  plain  they  suffered, 

Still  they  looked  with  joyous  faces, 

Wore  a  peaceable  appearance. 

Uttered  no  impatient  accents, 

But,  with  moistened  eyes  uplifted 

Towards  the  heavens,  appeared  imploring 

Pity,  and  their  sins  lamenting. 

This,  in  truth,  was  Purgatory, 

Where  the  sins  that  arc  more  venial 

Are  purged  out." 

He  then  alludes  to  that  Bridge  or  "  Brig  o'  Dread,"  to 
which  allusion  will  be  made  in  another  portion  of  our 
volume.  As  this  passage  is  celebrated,  it  is  well  to  give 
it  in  full : 

LuDOVico.     To  a  river  did  they  lead  me, 
Flowers  of  fire  were  on  its  margin, 
Liquid  sulphur  was  its  current. 
Many-headed  hydras — serpents — 
Monsters  of  the  deep  v.ere  in  it; 
It  was  very  broad,  and  o'er  it 
Lay  a  bridge,  so  slight  and  narrow 
That  it  seem'cl  a  thin  line  only. 
It  appear'd  so  weak  and  fragile. 
That  the  slightest  weight  would  sink  it. 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 


377 


ers  he  has 
:chy  dark- 
at  length 
Ive  grave 
>  his  cour- 
ir  on.     At 


ed 
fFered, 


loring 


"  Here  thy  pathway  lies,"  they  told  me, 
"  O'er  this  bridge  so  weak  and  narrow; 
And,  for  thy  still  greater  horror. 
Look  at  those  who've  pass'd  before  tliee." 
Then  1  look'd,  and  saw  the  wretclies 
Who  the  passage  were  attempting 
Fall  amid  the  sulphurous  current. 
Where  the  snakes  witli  teeth  and  talons 
Tore  them  to  a  thousand  pieces. 
Notwithstanding  all  these  horrors, 
I,  the  name  of  God  invoking. 
Undertook  the  dreadful  passage, 
And,  undaunted  by  the  billows, 
Or  the  winds  that  blew  around  me. 
Reached  the  other  side  in  safety. 
Here  within  a  wood  I  found  me. 
So  delightful  and  so  fertile. 
That  the  past  was  all  forgotten. 
On  my  path  rose  stately  cedars, 
Laurels — all  the  trees  of  Eden. 


Dread,"  to 
ion  of  our 
xU  to  give 


After  having  described  some  of  the  glories  of  this 
abode  of  b'iss,  he  relates  his  meeting  with  "the  resplend- 
ent, the  most  glorious,  the  great  Patrick,  the  Apostle  " — 
and  was  thus  enabled  to  keep  his  early  promise.  Tlie 
poem  ends  with  the  following  somewhat  confused  list  of 
authorities : 


k  it. 


"  For  with  this  is  now  concluded 
The  historic  legend  told  us 
By  Dionysius,  the  great  Carthusian, 
With  Henricus  Saltericnsis, 
Cresarius  Heisterbachensis, 
Matthew  Paris,  and  Ranulphus, 
Monbrisius,  Marolicus  Siculus, 
David  Rothe,  and  the  judicious 
Primate  over  all  Hibernia, 
Bellarmino,  Beda,  Serpi, 


'^S±ji^«S!ia»toat«te«,i,,^ 


,,; 


378 


PURGATORY. 


Friar  Dymas,  Jacob  Sotin, 

IMessin<^ham,  and  in  conclusion 

The  belief  and  pious  feelini^ 

Which  have  everywhere  maintained  it." 

*  vr  ^-  vV  *.i  Vf  % 

From  Alban  Butler's  notes  to  "  Lives  of  the  Saints," 
Vol.  I.  p.  103,  wc  subjoin  the  following : 

"  St.  Patrick's  Purg-atory  is  a  cave  on  an  island  in  the 
Lake  Dearo-  (Lough  Derg),  in  the  County  of  Donegal, 
near  the  borders  of  Fermanagh.  Bollandus  shows  the 
falsehood  of  many  things  related  concerning  it.  Upon 
complaint  of  certain  superstitious  and  false  notions  of  the 
vulgar,  in  1497,  it  was  stopped  up  by  an  order  of  the 
Pope.  Sec  Bollandus,  'Tillcmont,'  p.  287,  Alemand  in 
his  *  Monastic  Hist,  of  Ireland,'  and  Thiers,  '  Hist.  des. 
Superst.'  L  4  cd.  Nov.  It  was  soon  after  opened  again 
by  the  inhabitants  ;  but  only  according  to  the  original 
institution,  as  Bollandus  takes  notice,  as  a  penitential  re- 
tirement for  those  who  voluntarily  chose  it,  probably  in 
imitation  of  St.  Patrick,  or  other  saints,  who  had  there 
dedicated  themselves  to  a  penitential  state.  They  usu- 
ally spent  several  days  here,  living  on  bread  and  water, 
lying  on  rushes,  praying  and  making  stations  barefoot." 


LEGENDARY  AND   POETICAL. 


379 


it." 
ic  Saints," 


md  in  the 
Donegal, 
shows  the 
it.  Upon 
ions  of  the 
:lcr  of  the 
emand  in 
Hist.  des. 
ned  again 
e  original 
itential  re- 
robably  in 
had  there 
rhey  iisu- 
md  water, 
arefoot." 


THE  BRIG   0'  DKEAD. 


SIR   WALTER   SCOTT. 


In  connection  with  the  extracts  which  we  have  given 
from  the  celebrated  Drama  of  Calderon,  the  "  Purgatory 
of  St.  Patrick,"  and  in  particular  of  that  one  which  re- 
lates to  the  passage  of  Ludovico  over  the  bridge  which 
leads  from  Purgatory  to  Paradise,  it  will  be  interesting 
to  quote  the  following  from  Sir  Walter  Scott's  "  Min- 
strelsy of  the  Scottish  Border  :  " 

''  There  is  a  sort  of  charm,  sung  by  the  lower  ranks  of 
Roman  Catholics,  in  some  parts  of  the  north  of  England, 
while  watching  a  dead  body  previous  to  interment.  The 
tone  is  doleful  and  monotonous,  and,  joined  to  the  mys- 
terious import  of  the  words,  has  a  solemn  effect.  The 
word  sleet,  in  the  chorus,  seems  to  be  corrupted  from  selt 
or  salt ;  a  quantity  of  which,  in  compliance  with  a  popu- 
lar superstition,  is  frequently  placed  on  the  breast  of  a 
corpse.  The  mythologic  ideas  of  the  dirge  ai'e  common 
to  various  creeds.  The  Mahometan  believes  that,  in  ad- 
vancing to  the  final  judgment  seat,  he  must  traverse  a 
bar  of  red-hot  iron,  stretched  across  a  bottomless  gulf. 
The  good  works  of  each  true  believer,  assuming  a  sub- 
stantial form,  will  then  intcr])ose  between  his  feet  and 
this  '  Bridge  of  Dread  ; '  but  the  wicked,  having  no  such 
protection,  fall  headlong  into  the  abyss."  Passages  simi- 
lar to  this  dirge  are  also  to  be  found  in  "  Lady  Culross' 
Dream,"  as  quoted  in  the  second  Dissertation,  prefixed 
by  Mr.  Pinkerton  to  his  select  Scottish  Ballads,  2  vols. 
The  dreamer  journe3's  towards  heaven,  accompanied  and 
assisted  by  a  celestial  guide : 

"  Through  dreadful  dens,  which  made  my  heart  aghast. 
He  bore  me  up  when  I  began  to  tire. 
Sometimes  we  clamb  o'er  craggy  mountains  high. 
And  sometimes  stay'd  on  ugly  braes  of  sand. 


'•■'-"^•'ffirMfT- 


'■•"''•■■"■•■irfWicWuw.'.r- 


380 


PURGATORY. 


! 


They  were  so  stay  that  wonder  was  to  see; 
But  when  I  fcar'd,  he  held  ine  by  the  hand. 
Throu£rli  irrcat  deserts  we  wandered  on  our  way — 
Forward  we  [)assed  a  narrow  bridge  of  trie, 
O'er  waters  great,  which  liideously  did  roar." 

Again,  she  supposes  herself  suspended  over  an  infernal 
gulf: 

"  Ere  I  was  ware,  one  gripped  me  at  the  last. 
And  held  me  high  above  a  flaming  fire. 
The  fire  was  great,  the  heat  did  pierce  me  sore ; 
My  faith  grew  weak ;  my  grip  was  very  small. 
I  trembled  fast ;  my  faith  grew  more  and  more." 

A  horrible  picture  of  the  same  kind,  dictated  probably 
by  the  author's  unhappy  state  of  mind,  is  to  be  found  in 
Brooke's  "  Fool  of  Quality."  The  Russian  funeral  ser- 
vice, without  any  allegorical  imagery,  expresses  the  sen- 
timent of  the  dirge  in  language  alike  simple  and  noble: 
"  Hast  thou  pitied  the  afllictcd,  O  man?  In  death  shalt 
thou  be  pitied.  Hast  thou  consoled  the  orphan?  The 
orphan  will  deliver  thee.  Hast  thou  clothed  the  naked  ? 
The  naked  will  procure  thee  protection." — RicJiardsons 
'■'■Anecdotes  of  Russia  T 

But  the  most  minute  description  of  the  Brig  o'  Dread 
occurs  in  the  legend  of  Sir  Owain,  No.  XL.  in  the  MS. 
collection  of  romances,  W.  4.  i.  Advocates'  Library, 
Edinburgh.  Sir  Owain,  a  Northumbrian  knight,  after 
many  frightful  adventures  in  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory,  at 
last  arrives  at  the  bridge,  which,  in  the  legend,  is  placed 
betwixt  Purgatory  and  Paradise : 

"■  The  fendes  han  the  Knight  3'nome, 
To  a  stinkand  water  thai  ben  ycome, 
He  no  seigh  never  cr  non  swiche ; 
It  stank  fouler  than  ani  hounde, 
And  mani  mile  it  was  to  the  grounde. 
And  was  as  swart  as  piche. 


way — 


in  infernal 


re ; 
1. 


re. 


probably 
found  in 
neral  ser- 
;s  the  sen- 
nd  noble: 
cath  shalt 
an  ?  The 
le  naked  ? 
'chard son's 

o'  Dread 

the  MS. 

Library, 

^ht,  after 

^■atory,  at 

is  placed 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 

And  Owain  sci^^h  thcr  oner  Hj^gc 
A  swithe,  str(jn,L,f,  naru  brij^i^e : 

The  fcndcs  scyd  tho ; 
Lo,  Sir  Knij;-ht,  sestow  this, 
This  is  the  brip^£;-e  of  Paradis, 

Here  oner  thou  must  \io. 

And  we  the  schul  with  stones  i)ro\ve 
And  the  winde  the  schul  ouer  blow, 

And  wirche  the  ful  wo  ; 
Thou  no  schalt  for  all  this  unduerd, 
Bot  ^if  thou  falle  a  midwerd, 

To  our  fewes  '  mo. 

7\nd  when  thou  art  adoun  }- falle, 
Than  schal  com  our  felawcs  alle, 

And  with  her  hokcs  the  hcde ; 
We  schul  the  tcche  a  newe  playe : 
Thou  hast  served  ous  mani  a  day, 

And  into  helle  the  lede. 

Owain  biheld  the  brii^Gfc  smert, 

The  water  thcr  under  blek  and  swert, 

And  sore  him  <j^an  to  drede ; 
For  of  othini^  he  tok  yemc, 
Never  mot,  in  sonne  heme, 

Thicker  than  the  fendes  yede. 

The  brigge  M'as  as  heii^h  as  '   tower, 
And  as  scharpe  as  a  rasour, 

And  naru  it  was  also ; 
And  the  water  that  ther  run  under, 
Brend  o'  lighting  and  of  thonder. 

That  thocht  him  michel  wo. 

Ther  nis  no  clerk  may  write  with  ynke, 
No  no  man  no  may  bithink, 
No  no  maister  deuine  ; 


;8i 


*  Sir  Walter  Scott  says  probably  a  contraction  of  "fellows." 


'"  'f-friini 


3^2 


PURGATORY. 


Tluit  is  ymadc  forsoth  ywis, 
Under  I  lie  bri<;i^e  of  paradis 
Ilalven  del  tlie  pine. 

So  the  dominical  ous  telle, 
Ther  is  the  pure  entrae  of  hello, 

Seine  i'oule'  vcrth  witncsse ; 
Whoso  falleth  of  the  briii:<rc  adown, 
Of  him  nis  no  redcmpcion. 

Neither  more  nor  lessc. 

The  fcndes  scyd  to  the  Kniij^ht  tho, 

'  Oucr  this  briggc  might  thou  nowght  go, 

For  noneskines  nede ; 
Fie  peril  sorwc  and  wo, 
And  to  that  stede  ther  thou  com  fro, 

Wcl  fair  we  schul  the  lede.' 

Owain  anon  began  bithenchc, 

Fram  hou  mani  of  the  fendes  wrenche, 

God  him  saved  hadde  ; 
Me  sett  his  fot  opon  the  brigge, 
No  feld  he  no  scharpe  cggc, 

No  nothing  him  no  drad. 

When  the  fendes  yscigh  tho, 
That  he  was  more  than  half  ygo, 

Loude  thai  gun  to  crie : 
Alias  !  Alias  !  that  he  was  born  ! 
This  ich  night  we  habe  forlorn 

Out  of  our  baylie." 

— Minstrelsy  of  Scottish  Border. 

»  St.  Paul. 


%■■• 


LEGENDARY   AND   TOEriCAL. 


. 


ffO, 


SHELLEY  AND  THE  PURGATORY  OF  ST.  PATRICK. 

It  will  be  of  interest  to  quote  the  rollowiiiL;-  passage 
IVoin  one  of  Shelley's  best  known  works,  "Tlli:  Ci.NCi," 
of  whieh  he  himself  says:  "An  idea  in  this  si)eeeh  was 
sui^i^ested  by  a  most  sublime  passage  in  '  Kl  l^irgatorio 
do  San  ratricio,'  of  Calderon." 

"  But  I  remember, 
Two  miles  on  this  side  of  the  fort,  the  road 
Crosses  a  deep  ravine  ;  'tis  rough  and  narrow, 
And  winds  with  short  turns  down  the  precipiee; 
And  in  its  depths  there  is  a  mighty  roek 
Whieh  has,  from  unimaginable  years, 
Sustained  itself  with  terror  and  with  toil 
Over  the  gulf,  and  with  the  agony 
With  whieh  it  elings  seems  slowly  coming  down  ; 
Even  as  a  wretched  soul,  hour  after  hour, 
Clings  to  the  mass  of  life ;  yet  clinging,  leans ; 
And  leaning,  makes  more  dark  the  dread  abyss 
In  which  it  fears  to  fall;  beneath  this  crag 
Huge  as  despair,  as  if  in  v.eariness, 
The  melancholy  mountain  yawns." 


I 


Border. 


#4 


»W«*Jtti*ft,fc^..M 


■Wit 


384 


rUKUATORV. 


ON   A  GREAT  FUNERAL.' 


AUURKY   UE   Vr.KE. 


No  more  than  this?     The  chief  of  nations  bears 
Her  chief  of  sons  to  iiis  last  restinj^-place  ; 
Throii<.';h  the  still  city,  sad  and  slow  of  pace, 
The  sable  pajji^eant  streams ;  and  as  it  nears 
That  dome,  to-dav  a  vault  funereal,  tears 
]<un  down  the  ^ray-hair'd  veteran's  wintry  face; 
Deep  organs  sob,  and  (laj^s  their  front  abase; 
And  the  snapt  wand  the  rite  comi)lete  declares. 
Soul,  that  before  thy  Judj^e  dost  stand  this  day, 
Disrobed  of  streniii'th  and  puissance,  pomj)  and  power; 
O  soul !  defrauded  at  thine  extreme  hour 
Of  man's  sole  help  from  man,  and  latest  stay. 
Swells  there  for  thee  no  prayer  from  all  that  host, 
And  is  this  burial  but  a  nation's  boast  ? 


"MORTE  D' ARTHUR." 


TENNYSON. 


Then  loudly  cried  the  bold  Sir  Bediverc, 
"  Ah  !  my  Lord  Arthur,  whither  shall  I  go? 
Where  shall  1  hide  my  forehead  and  my  eyes  ? 
For  now  I  see  the  true  old  times  are  dead. 
When  every  morning  brought  a  noble  chance. 
And  every  chance  brought  out  a  noble  knight. 
Such  times  have  been  not  since  the  light  that  led 
The  holy  Elders  with  the  gift  of  myrrh. 
But  now  the  whole  Round  Table  is  dissolved 
Which  was  an  image  of  the  mighty  world  ; 
And  I,  the  last,  go  forth  companionless, 

*  The  above  lines  npply  witli  peculiar  imprcssiveness  to  the  funeral  of 
General  Grant,  so  lately  occupying  public  attention. 


«.^ 


LEGKNDAUY   AM)   rcM'/PICAL. 


385 


:ars 


lace ; 

ires. 

day, 

id  power; 

,t  host, 


led 


And  tlic  days  darken  round  me,  and  tlic  years, 
.Anioni:^  new  men,  stranj^e  laees,  other  minds." 

And  slowly  answered  ^Arthur  iVotn  the  barj^e: 
"The  old  Older  ehanij^eth,  yieldini^  place  to  new, 
And  (iod  Inllils  Himself  in  many  ways. 
Lest  one  j^ood  custom  should  corrupt  the  world. 
Conil'ort  t'.iysell  :  what  comfort  is  in  me? 
I  have  lived  my  life,  and  that  which  I  have  done 
May  He  within  Himself  make  pure!  but  thou. 
If  thou  shouldst  never  sec  my  face  a<^ain, 
I  *ray  for  my  soul.    M(jre  thin^i^s  arc  wroui^ht  by  prayer 
Than  this  world  dreams  of.     Where  fore,  let  thy  voice 
Rise  like  fountain  for  me  nii;ht  and  day. 
For  what  arc  men  better  than  sheep  or  <^oats 
That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  brain. 
If,  knowinj^  God,  they  lift  not  hands  of  jiraycr 
Both  for  themselves  and  those  who  call  them  friend? 
For  so  the  whole  round  earth  is  every  way 
Bound  by  j^old  chains  about  the  feet  of  Ciod. 
But  now  farewell !     I  am  j^oinr^  a  long-  way 
With  these  thou  secst — if  indeed  I  i^o 
(For  all  my  mind  is  clouded  with  a  doubt) 
To  the  island-valley  of  Avilion  ; 
Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  snow  ; 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly  ;   but  it  lies 
Deep-meadowed,  happy,  fair  wdth  orchard  lawns 
And  bowery  hollows  crowned  with  summer  sea. 
Where  1  will  heal  nic  of  my  grievous  wound." 

So  said  he,  and  the  barge  with  oar  and  sail 
Moved  from  the  brink,  like  some  full-breasted  swan. 
That,  fluting  a  wild  carol,  ere  her  death, 
Ruffles  her  pure  cold  plume,  and  takes  the  flood 
With  swarthy  webs.     Long  stood  wSir  Bedivere 
Revolving  many  memories,  till  the  hull 
Looked  one  black  dot  against  the  verge  of  dawn, 
And  on  the  meer  the  wailing  died  away. 


Ifuncral  of 


'Ti 


Us,i«a»K»i.,  ^.4«L^>j|ju.j*kfc,, 


386 


PURGATORY. 


I 


u 


GUIDO   AND  HIS   BROTHER. 


COLI.I.N    DK    TLANCY. 


The  brother  who  fori^cts  his  brother  is  no  longer  a  man 
stcr. — St,  John  Ciikysostom. 


he  IS  a  mon- 


Peter  tlic  Venerable  .elates  the  story  of  a  lord  of  his 
time,  named  Guy  or  Guido,  who  had  lost  his  life  in 
battle ;  this  was  very  common  in  the  Middle  Ages,  when 
the  nobles  were  beyond  all  else  i^reat  warriors.  As  this 
Guido  had  not  been  able  to  make  his  last  confession,  he 
appeared  fully  armed,  to  a  priest,  some  time  after  his 
death. 

"  Stcphanus,"  said  he  (that  was  the  name  of  the  priest), 
"  I  pray  thee  go  to  my  brother  Anselm  ;  thou  shalt  tell 
him  that  I  conjure  him  to  restore  an  ox  which  I  took 
from  a  peasant,"  naming  him  ;  "  and  also  to  repair  the 
damage  1  did  to  a  village  which  did  not  belong  to  me, 
by  wrongfully  imposing  taxes  tliereupon.  I  was  unable 
to  confess,  or  to  expiate  these  two  sins,  for  which  I  am 
grievously  tormented.  As  an  assurance  of  what  I  tell 
thee,"  continued  the  apparition,  "  I  warn  thee  that,  wh.en 
thou  rcturnest  to  thy  dwelling,  thou  siialt  find  that  the 
money  thou  hast  saved  to  make  the  pilgrimage  of  St. 
James  has  been  stolen." 

The  priest,  on  his  return,  actually  found  that  his  strong- 
box had  been  broken  open  and  his  money  carried  off;  but 
he  could  not  discharge  his  commission,  because  Anselm 
was  absent. 

A  lew  days  after,  the  same  Guido  appeared  a  second 
time,  to  reproach  Stephanus  for  his  neglect.  The  good 
priest  excused  himself  on  the  impossibility  of  finding  An- 
selm ;  but  learning  that  he  had  returned  to  his  manor, 
lie  repaired  thither,  and  faitlifully  fulfilled  his  commis- 
sion. 

He  Avas  received  very  coolly.  Anselm  told  him  that 
he  was  not  obliged  to  do  penance  for  the  sins  of  his 
brother;  and  with  these  words  he  dismissed  him. 


;  he  is  a  nion- 

L  lord  of  his 
his  life  in 
Ages,  when 
rs.  As  this 
Dnfession,  he 
no  after   his 

f  the  pricst\ 
ou  shalt  tell 
^rhich  1  took 
:o  repair  the 
-long-  to  me, 
I  was  unable 
which  I  am 
what  1  tell 
c  that,  when 
Ifind  that  the 
tmage  of  ^t. 

lat  his  strong- 
Vricd  off;  but 
lausc  Anselm 

cd  a  second 
The  good 
)f  finding  An- 
te his  manor, 

his   commis- 

Mld  him  that 
sins  of  his 
him. 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


3^7 


i 


The  dead  man,  who  experienced  no  relief,  ajtpearcd  a 
third  time,  and  bemoaning  his  brother's  harshness,  he  be- 
sought the  worthy  servant  of  God  to  have  compassion 
himself  on  his  distress,  and  assist  him  in  his  extremitv. 
Stephanus,  much  affected,  promised  that  he  would.  1  le 
restored  the  price  of  the  stolen  ox,  gave  alms  to  the 
wronged  village,  said  prayers,  recommended  the  de- 
ceased to  all  the  good  people  he  knew,  and  then  Guido 
appeared  no  more. 


BERTHOLD   IN   PURGATORY. 

COLLIN'   DE   TLA-NCY. 

Miscrcmini  mci,  niisercmini  mci,  saltern  vos,  amici  mci. — Jon  \ix. 

A  SHORT  time  after  the  death  of  Charles  the  Bald, 
there  is  found  in  Ilincmar  a  narrative  which  it  may  be 
well  to  introduce  here  ;  it  is  the  journey  of  Berthold,  or 
Bcrnold,  to  Purgatory  in  the  spirit. 

Berthold  was  a  citizen  of  Rheims,  of  good  life,  fulfill- 
ing his  Christian  duties  and  enjoying  public  esteem.  lie 
was  subject  to  ecstasies,  or  syncope,  which  sometimes 
lasted  a  good  while.  Then,  whether  he  had  visions,  or 
that  his  soul  transported  itself  or  was  transported  out  of 
his  body — an  effect  which  is  evidently  produced  in  our 
days  by  magnetism — he  made,  in  his  ecstasies,  several 
journeys  into  Purgatory. 

Plaving  fallen  seriously  ill  when  already  well  advanced 
in  age,  he  received  all  the  sacraments  which  console  the 
conscience  ;  after  which  he  remained  four  entire  davs  in  a 
sort  of  ecstasy,  during  which  he  took  no  nourishment  of 
any  kind.  At  the  end  of  the  fourth  day  he  had  become 
so  weak  that  there  was  hardly  any  breath  in  him.  About 
midnight,  however,  he  begged  his  wife  to  send  quickly 
for  his  confessor.     He  afterwards  remained  motionless. 


',  1 


388 


rURGATORY. 


But,  at  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  said  to  his 
wife : 

**  Place  a  scat  here,  for  the  priest  is  coming." 

He  entered  the  moment  after,  and  recited  the  beautiful 
prayers  for  the  departing  soul,  to  which  13erthold  re- 
sponded clearly  and  exactly.  After  this  he  had  again  a 
moment  of  ecstasy  ;  and,  coming  out  of  it,  he  related  his 
several  visits  to  Purgatory,  and  the  commissions  where- 
with he  had  been  charged  by  many  suffering  souls. 

He  was  conducted  by  a  spirit,  an  Angel  doubtless. 
Amongst  those  who  were  being  purified,  in  ice  or  in  fire, 
he  found  Ebbon,  Archbishop  of  Rheims  ;  Pardule,  Bishop 
of  Laon  ;  Ence,  Bishop  of  Paris,  and  some  other  prelates, 
clothed  in  filthy  garments,  torn  and  rusty.  Their  faces 
were  wrinkled,  haggard,  and  sallow.  Ebbon  besought 
him  to  ask  the  clergy  and  people  of  Rheims  to  pray  for 
him  and  his  companions,  who  made  him  the  same  re- 
quest.    He  charged  himself  with  all  these  commissions. 

He  found,  farther  on,  or  in  another  visit,  the  soul  of 
Charles  the  Bald,  extended  in  the  mud  and  much  ex- 
hausted. The  ex-king  asked  Bcrthold  to  recommend 
him  to  Archbishop  Plincmar  and  the  princes  of  his  family, 
acknowledging  that  he  was  principally  punished  lor 
having  given  ecclesiastical  benefices  to  courtiers  and 
worldl}'  laics,  as  had  been  done  by  his  ancestor,  Charles 
Martel.     Bcrthold  promised  to  do  what  he  could.' 

Farther  on,  and  perhaps  also  on  a  lother  occasion,  he 
saw  Jesse,  Bishop  of  Orleans,  in  the  liands  of  four  dark 
spirits,  who  were  plunging  him  alternately  into  a  well  of 
boiling  pitch  and  one  of  ice-cold  water.  Not  far  from 
him.  Count  Othairc  was  in  other  torments.  The  two 
sufferers  recommended  themselves,  like  the  others,  to  the 
pious  offices  of  Bcrthold,  who  faithfully  executed  the 
commissions  of  the  souls  in  pain.  He  applied,  on  behalf 
of  the  bishops,  to  their  clergy  and  people ;  for  King 
Charles  the  Bald,  to  Archbishop  Hincmar.  He  wrote 
besides — for  he  was  a  lettered  man — to  the  relatives  of  the 
deceased   monarch,    makinir    known   to   them   tlie   state 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETIC  A  L. 


3^9 


aid  to  his 


2  beautiful 
rtholcl  rc- 
id  aijjain  a 
related  his 
ons  wherc- 

ouls. 
doubtless. 

c  or  in  tire, 
ule,  Bishop 
cr  prelates, 
Their  faces 
11  besought 
to  pray  for 
ic  same  re- 
nmissions. 
the  soul  of 
I   mueh  ex- 
rccommend 
f  his  family, 

inished    for 
lurtiers   and 

or,  Charles 

uld.- 

iccasion,  he 
four  dark 
to  a  well  of 
lot  far  from 
The  two 
hers,  to  the 
tecuted  the 
:1,  on  behalf 
ibr  Kinj; 
lie  wrote 
tives  of  the 
n   the   state 


wherein  he  had  seen  him.  He  went  t(D  urge  the  wife  of 
Othaire,  his  vassals  and  friends,  to  oiler  up  prayers  and 
give  alms  for  him  ;  and  in  a  last  visit  which  he  was  per- 
mitted to  make,  he  learned  that  Count  Othaire  and 
Bishop  Jesse  were  delivered ;  King  Charles  the  Bald  had 
reached  the  term  of  his  punishment ;  and  he  saw  tlie 
Bishops  Ebbon,  Enee,  and  Bardule,  who  thanked  him  as 
they  went  forth  from  Purgatory,  fresh  and  robed  in  white. 
After  this  account,  whereto  Bcrthold  subjoined  tliat 
his  guide  had  promised  him  some  more  years  of  life,  lie 
asked  for  Holy  Communion,  received  it,  felt  himself 
cured,  left  his  bed  on  the  following  day,  and  his  life  was 
prolonged  for  fourteen  years. 


A  LEGEND   OF   ST.   NICHOLAS. 

Let  us  quote  here,  says  Collin  de  Plancy,  a  good  Eng- 
lish religious  whose  journey  has  been  related  by  Peter 
the  Venerable,  Abbot  of  Cluny,  and  by  Denis  tiie  Car- 
thusian.    This  traveller  speaks  in  the  first  person : 

"  I  had  St.  Nicholas  for  a  guide,"  he  says  ;  "  he  led 
me  by  a  level  road  to  a  vast  horrible  space,  peopled  with 
the  dead,  wdio  were  tormented  in  a  thousand  frightful 
ways.  I  w^as  told  that  these  people  were  not  damned, 
that  their  torment  would  in  time  come  to  an  end,  and 
that  it  was  Purgatory  I  saw.  I  did  not  expect  to  find  it 
so  severe.  All  these  unfortunates  wept  hot  tears  and 
groaned  aloud.  Since  I  have  seen  all  these  things  1 
know  well  that  if  I  had  any  relative  in  Purgatory,  I 
would  suffer  a  thousand  deaths  to  take  him  out  of  it. 

"  A  little  farther  on,  I  perceived  a  valley,  through 
which  flowed  a  fearful  river  of  fire,  which  rose  in  waves 
to  an  enormous  height.  On  the  banks  of  that  river  it 
was  so  icy  cold  that  no  one  can  have  any  idea  of  it.  St. 
Nicholas  conducted  me  thither,  and  made  me  observe 
the  sufferers  who  were  there,  telling  mc  that  this  again 
was  Purgatory." 


;lj 


■  ( 


390 


rURGATORV. 


"DREAM  OF  GERONTIUS." 


CARDINAI,    NEWMAN. 


Angel.     Thy  judgment  now  is  near,  for  we  are  come 
Into  the  veiled  presence  of  our  God. 

Soul.     I  hear  the  voices  that  I  left  on  earth. 

Angel.     It  is  the  voice  of  friends  around  thy  bed, 
Who  say  the  "  Subvcnite  "  with  the  priest. 
Hither  the  echoes  come ;  before  the  Throne 
Stands  the  great  Angel  of  the  Agony, 
The  same  who  strengthened  Him,  what  time  He  knelt 
Lone  in  that  garden  shade,  bedewed  with  blood. 
That  Angel  best  can  plead  with  Him  for  all 
Tormented  souls,  the  dying  and  the  dead. 

Angel  of  the  Agony.     Jcsu  !    by  that  shuddering 
dread  which  fell  on  Thee  ; 
Jesu  !  by  that  cold  dismay  v/hich  sicken'd  Thee ; 
Jesu  !  by  that  pang  of  heart  which  thrill'd  in  Thee  ; 
Jesu  !  by  that  moiuit  of  sins  which  crippled  Thee  ; 
Jesu !  by  that  sense  of  guilt  which  stifled  Thee; 
Jesu !  by  that  innocence  which  girdled  Thee; 
Jcsu !  by  that  sanctity  which  reign'd  in  Thee ; 
Jesu !  by  that  Godhead  which  was  one  with  Thee  ; 
Jcsu  !  spare  these  souls  which  arc  so  dear  to  Thee  ; 
Who  in  prison,  calm  and  patient,  wait  for  Thee ; 
Hasten,  Lord,  their  hour,  and  bid  them  come  to  Thee, 
To  that  glorious  Home,  where  they  shall  ever  gaze  on 
Thee. 

Soul.     I  go  before  my  Judge.     Ah !     .     .     . 

Angel.  .    .     .     Praise  to  His  Name ! 

The  eager  spirit  has  darted  from  my  hold, 
And,  with  the  intemperate  energy  of  love. 
Flies  to  the  dear  feet  of  Emmanuel ; 
But,  ere  it  reach  them,  the  keen  sanctity. 
Which,  with  its  effluence,  like  a  glory,  clothes 
And  circles  round  the  Crucified,  has  seized, 


LEGENDARY   AND   TOETICAL. 


391 


e  are  come 

h. 

hy  bed, 


I  He  knelt 
)od. 


shuddering 

hee ; 

Thee ; 

hee ; 
ee; 


Thee  ; 
Thee ; 
ice ; 

to  Thee, 
ver  gaze  on 


:s 


And  scorch'd,  and  shrivell'd  it ;  and  now  it  lies 
Passive  and  still  bctore  the  awtul  Throne. 

0  happy,  suflcring  soul !  for  it  is  safe, 
Consumed,  yet  quickcn'd,  by  the  glance  of  GckI. 

Soul.     Take  me  away,  and  in  the  lowest  deep 

There  let  me  be. 
And  there  in  hope  the  lone  night-watches  keep, 

Told  out  for  me. 
There,  motionless  and  happy  in  my  pain, 

Lone,  not  forlorn, — 
There  will  I  sing  my  sad,  perpetual  strain, 

Until  tlie  morn. 
There  will  1  sing,  and  soothe  my  stricken  breast. 

Which  ne'er  can  cease 
To  throb,  and  pine,  and  languish,  till  possess'd 

Of  its  Sole  Peace. 
There  will  I  sing  my  absent  Lord  and  Love : — 

Take  me  away, 
That  sooner  I  may  rise,  and  go  above. 
And  sec  Him  in  the  truth  of  everlasting  day. 

AxGEL.     Now  let  the  golden  prison  ope  its  gates, 
Making  sweet  music,  as  each  fold  revolves 
Upon  its  ready  hinge.     And  ye,  great  powers. 
Angels  of  Purgatory,  receive  from  me 
My  charge,  a  precious  soul,  until  the  day. 
When  from  all  bond  and  forfeiture  released, 

1  shall  reclaim  it  for  the  courts  of  light. 

Souls  in  Purgatory,     i.  Lord,  Thou  hast  been  our 
refuge  :  in  every  generation  ; 

2.  i3eforc  the  hills  were  born,  and  the  world  was :  from 
age  to  age.  Thou  art  God. 

3.  Bring  us  not,  Lord,  very  low :  for  Thou  hast  said, 
Come  back  again,  ye  sons  of  Adam ! 

4.  A  thousand  years  before  Thine  eyes  are  but  as  yes- 
terday :  and  as  a  watch  of  the  night  which  is  come  and 


! 


gone. 


5.  The  grass  springs  up  in  the  morning:  at  evening- 
tide  it  shrivels  up  and  dies. 


rit»..-rtiai5i''-»-- 


I 


V\ 


392 


PURGATORY. 


6.  So  we  fall  in  Thine  anger :  and  in  Thy  wrath  are  we 
troubled. 

7.  Thou  hast  set  our  sins  in  Thy  sight:  and  our  round 
of  days  in  the  light  of  Thy  countenance. 

8.  Come  back,  O  Lord !  how  long :  and  be  entreated 
for  Thy  servants. 

9.  In  Thy  morning  we  shall  be  filled  with  Thy  mercy : 
we  shall  rejoice  and  be  in  pleasure  all  our  days. 

10.  We  shall  be  glad  according  to  the  days  of  our 
humiliation :  and  the  years  in  which  we  have  seen  evil. 

11.  Look,  O  Lord,  upon  Thy  servants  and  upon  Thy 
work :  and  direct  their  children. 

12.  And  let  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  our  God  be  upon 
us :  and  the  work  of  our  hands,  establish  Thou  it. 

Glory  be  to  the  Father,  and  to  the  Son :  and  to  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

As  it  was  in  the  beginning,  is  now,  and  ever  shall  be : 
world  without  end.     Amen. 

Angel.  Softly  and  gently,  dearly-ransom'd  soul. 

In  my  most  loving  arms  I  now  enfold  thee, 
And,  o'er  the  penal  waters,  as  they  roll, 

I  poise  thee,  and  I  lower  thee,  and  hold  thee. 

And  carefully  I  dip  thee  in  the  lake. 

And  thou,  without  a  sob,  or  a  resistance, 

Dost  through  the  flood  thy  rapid  passage  take. 
Sinking  deep,  deeper,  into  the  dim  distance. 

Angels,  to  whom  the  willing  task  is  given. 

Shall  tend,  and  nurse,  and  lull  thee,  as  thou  liest ; 

And  Masses  on  the  earth,  and  prayers  in  heaven. 
Shall  aid  thee  at  the  throne  of  the  Most  High. 

Farewell,  but  not  for  ever  !  brother  dear, 
Be  brave  and  patient  on  thy  bed  of  sorrow  ; 

Swiftly  shall  pass  thy  night  of  trial  here. 
And  I  will  come  and  wake  thee  on  the  morrow. 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


393 


ath  are  we 

our  round 

entreated 

hy  mercy : 

lys  of  our 
5een  evil, 
upon  Thy 

3d  be  upon 

I  it. 

and  to  the 

r  shall  be : 


111, 
thee, 

Id  thee. 


cc, 

e  take, 
;tance. 

n, 

thou  liest ; 
I  heaven, 
st  High. 


rrow ; 
morrow. 


\ 


^ 


ST.   GREGORY  RELEASES   THE   SOUL   OF   THE  EMPEROR 

TRAJAN. 

MRS.    JAMICSON, 

In  a  little  picture  in  the  Bologna  Academy  lie  is  seen 
praying  before  a  tomb,  on  which  is  inscribed  "  Trajano 
Imperador  ;  "  beneath  are  two  angels,  raising  the  soul  of 
Trafan  out  of  flames.  Such  is  the  usual  treatment  of  this 
curious  and  poetical  legend,  which  is  thus  related  in  the 
"  LcgendaAurea":  "  It  happened  on  a  time,  as  Trajan  was 
hastening  to  battle  at  the  head  of  his  legions,  that  a  poor 
widow  flung  herself  in  his  path,  and  cried  aloud  for  jus- 
tice, and  the  emperor  stayed  to  listen  to  her;  and  she  de- 
manded vengeance  for  the  innocent  blood  of  her  son, 
killed  by  the  son  of  the  emperor.  Trajan  promised  to  do 
her  justice  when  he  returned  from  his  ex})edItion.  '  But, 
sire',  answered  the  widow,  'should  you  be  killed  in  battle, 
who  will  then  do  me  justice?'  *  My  successor,'  replied 
Trajan.  And  she  said,  '  What  will  it  signify  to  you, 
great  emperor,  that  any  other  than  yourself  should  do 
me  justice?  Is  it  not  better  that  you  should  do  this 
good  action  yourself  than  leave  another  to  do  it?'  And 
Trajan  alighted,  and  having  examined  into  the  affair,  he 
gave  up  his  own  son  to  her  in  place  of  him  she  had  lost, 
and  bestowed  on  her  likewise  a  rich  dowry.  Now,  it 
came  to  pass  that  as  Gregory  was  one  day  meditating  in 
his  daily  walk,  this  action  of  the  Emperor  Trajan  came 
into  his  mind,  and  he  w^ept  bitterly  to  think  that  a  man 
so  just  should  be  condemned  to  eternal  punishment. 
And  entering  a  church,  he  pra)'cd  most  fervently  tliat 
the  soul  of  the  good  emperor  might  be  released  from  tor- 
ment. And  a  voice  said  to  him,  '  I  have  granted  thy 
prayer,  and  I  have  spared  the  soul  of  Tr:ijan  for  thy 
sake ;  but  because  thou  hast  supplicated  for  one  whom 
the  justice  of  God  had  already  condemned,  thou  shalt 
choose  one  of  two  thing-s  :  either  thou  shait  endure  for 


394 


rURCATORY. 


two  days  the  fires  of  Piiri2^atory,or  tlioii  shalt  be  sick  and 
infirm  for  the  remainder  of  thy  life.'  Grei^ory  chose  the 
latter,  which  sufficiently  accounts  for  the  grievous  pains 
and  infirmities  to  which  this  j^reat  and  good  man  was 
subjected,  even  to  the  day  of  his  death." 

This  story  of  Trajan  was  extremely  popular  in  the 
Middle  Ages ;  it  is  illustrative  of  the  character  of  Greg- 
ory. .  .  .  Dante  twice  alludes  to  it.  He  describes  it 
as  being  one  of  the  subjects  sculptured  on  the  walls  of 
Purgatory,  and  takes  occasion  to  relate  the  whole  story. 

**  There  was  storied  on  the  rock 
Th' exalted  glory  of  the  Roman  Prince, 
Whose  mighty  worth  moved  Gregory  to  earn 
This  mighty  conquest — Trajan  the  Emperor. 
A  widow  at  his  bridle  stood  attired 
In  tears  and  mourning.     Round  about  them  troop'd 
Pull  throng  of  knights:  and  overhead  in  gold 
The  eagles  floated,  struggling  with  the  wind 
The  wretch  appear'd  amid  all  these  to  say : 
'  Grant  vengeance,  sire  !  for  woe,  beshrew  this  heart, 
My  son  is  murder'd  ! '     He,  replying,  seem'd  : 
'  Wait  now  till  I  return.'     And  she,  as  one 
Made  hasty  by  her  grief:  *  O,  sire,  if  thou 
Dost  not  return?' — '  Where  I  am,  who  then  is, 
May  right  thee.' — *■  What  to  thee  is  others'  good, 
If  thou  neglect  thine  own  ? ' — *  Now  comfort  thee,' 
At  length  he  answers :  *  It  bcseemeth  well 
My  duty  be  perform'd,  ere  I  move  hence. 
So  justice  wills  and  pity  bids  me  stay.'  " — Purg.  Canto  X. 

It  was  through  the  efficacy  of  St.  Gregory's  interces- 
sion that  Dante  afterwards  finds  Trajan  in  Paradise, 
seated  between  King  David  and  King  Hczekiah. — Piirg. 
Canto  XX. 


I  sick  and 
chose  the 
ous  pains 
man  was 

ir  in  the 
of  Grcg- 
;scribes  it 
c  walls  of 
Ac  story. 


' 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


395 


)op'cl 


heart, 


ST.  GREGORY   AND   THE   MONK. 

There  was  a  monk  who,  in  defiance  of  liis  vow  of  pov- 
erty, secreted  in  his  cell  tb'"ee  })ieces  of  i^old.  Grei^ory, 
on  learning;  this,  excommunicated  him,  and  sliortly  after- 
wards the  monk  died.  When  Grej^ory  heard  that  the 
monk  had  perished  in  his  sin,  without  receivinij^  absolu- 
tion, he  was  hlled  with  grief  and  horror,  and  he  wrote 
upon  a  parchment  a  })rayer  and  a  form  of  absolution,  and 
gave  it  to  one  of  his  deacons,  desiring  him  to  go  to  the 
grave  of  the  deceased  and  read  it  there :  on  the  following 
night  the  monk  appeared  in  a  vision,  and  revealed  to  him 
his  release  from  torment. 

This  story  is  represented  in  the  beautiful  bas-relief  in 
v;hite  marble  in  front  of  the  altar  of  his  chapel ;  it  is  the 
last  compartment  on  the  right. 

-X-  -A-  -X-  "A"  -X-  Vj  VV- 

In  chapels  dedicated  to  the  ^Service  of  the  Dead,  wSt. 
Gregory  is  often  represented  in  the  attitude  of  supplica- 
tion, while  on  one  side,  or  in  the  background,  angels  arc 
raising  the  tormented  souls  out  of  the  flames. — Sacred  and 
Legendary  Art,   Vol.  I. 


d, 
ee,' 


.  Canto  X. 

s  interces- 

Paradise, 

ah. — Purg. 


THE   LEGEND  OF   GEOFFROID   D'IDEN. 

It  is  related  by  Peter  the  Venerable,  Abbot  of  Cluny, 
that,  in  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  Lord 
Humbert,  son  of  Guichard,  Count  de  Bcaujeu,  in  the 
Maronnais,  having  made  war  on  some  other  nei2:hborin2: 
lords,  Geoffroid  d'Iden,  one  of  his  vassals,  received  in  the 
hght  a  wound  which  instantly  killed  him.  Two  months 
after  his  death,  Geoffroid  appeared  to  iMilon  d'Ansa, 
who  knew  him  well ;  he  begged  him  to  tell  Hum- 
bert dc  Beaujeu,  in  whose  service  he  had  lost  his  life, 


39^ 


rURGATORY. 


that  he  was  in  l^urfjatory,  for  having  aided  him  in  an  un- 
just war  and  not  havin<^  expiated  his  sins  by  penance,  be- 
fore his  unlooked-for  death  ;  that  he  besought  him,  there- 
fore, most  urgently,  to  have  compassion  on  him,  and  also 
on  his  own  father,  Guichard,  who,  although  he  had  led  a 
religious  life  at  Cluny  in  his  latter  days,  had  not  entirely 
satisfied  the  justice  of  God  for  his  past  sins,  and  espe- 
cially for  a  portion  of  his  wealth,  which,  as  his  children 
knew,  was  ill  gained  ;  that,  in  consequence  thereof,  he 
prayed  him  to  have  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  offered 
for  him  and  for  his  father,  to  distribute  alms  to  the  poor, 
and  to  recommend  both  sufferers  to  the  prayers  of  good 
people,  in  order  to  shorten  their  time  of  penance.  "  Tell 
him,"  added  the  apparition,  '*  that  if  he  hear  thee  not,  I 
must  go  myself  to  announce  to  him  that  which  I  have 
now  told  to  thee." 

The  lord  of  Ansa  (now  Anse)  faithfully  discharged  the 
task  imposed  upon  him.  Humbert  was  frightened  ;  but 
he  neither  had  prayers  nor  Masses  offered  up,  made  no 
reparation,  and  distributed  no  alms. 

Nevertheless,  fearing  lest  Guichard  his  father  or  Geof- 
froid  d'lden  might  come  to  disturb  him,  he  no  longer 
dared  to  remain  alone,  especially  by  night ;  and  he  always 
had  some  of  his  people  around  him,  making  them  sleep 
in  his  chamber. 

One  morning,  as  he  was  still  in  bed,  but  awake,  he  saw 
appc^ar  before  him  Geoffroid  d'ldcn,  armed  as  on  the 
day  of  the  battle.  Showing  him  the  mortal  wound  which 
he  had  received,  and  which  appeared  still  fresh,  he 
warmly  reproached  him  for  the  little  pity  he  had  for  him- 
self and  for  his  father,  who  was  groaning  in  torment ; 
and  he  added :  *'  Take  care  lest  God  may  treat  thee  in 
His  rigor,  and  refuse  thee  the  mercy  thou  dost  not  grant 
to  us ;  and  for  thee,  give  up  thy  purpose  of  going  to  the 
w^ar  with  Amadeus.  If  thou  gocst  thither,  thou  shalt 
lose  thy  life  and  thy  possessions." 

At  that  moment,  Richard  de  Marsay,  the  Count's 
squire,   entered,   coming  from    Mass;   the   spirit   disap- 


in  an  un- 
lancc,  bc- 
im,  thcrc- 

und  also 
had  led  a 
t  entirely 
and  cspe- 

children 
icrcof,  he 
ss  oficrcd 
the  poor, 
s  of  good 
c.  ''Tell 
lee  not,  I 
:h  I  have 

irgcd  the 
:ned  ;  but 
,  made  no 

r  or  Geof- 
lo  longer 
he  always 
lem  sleep 

e,  he  saw 
s  on  the 
nd  which 
fresh,  he 
I  for  him- 
torment ; 
t  thee  in 
not  grant 
ng  to  the 
lOLi  shalt 

Count's 
it   disap- 


1 


LEGENDARY  AND   POETICAI-. 


397 


pcared,  and  tlicnceforward  Humbert  de  Beaujcu  went 
seriously  to  work  to  relieve  his  fatiier  and  his  vassal,  after 
which  he  made  the  journey  to  Jerusalem  to  expiate  his 
own  sins. 


T 


f 


THE  aUEEN   OF  PURGATORY. 

«Y   FREDKRICK    WIM.IAM    lAliKP,    D.  1). 

On !  turn  to  Jesus,  i>Iother !  turn, 

And  call  Him  by  His  tcnderest  names  ; 

Pray  for  the  Holy  Souls  that  burn 
This  hour  amid  the  cleansing  flames. 

Ah !  they  have  fought  a  gallant  fight ; 

In  death's  cold  arms  they  persevered; 
And,  after  life's  unchecry  night. 

The  harbor  of  their  rest  is  ncared. 

In  pains  beyond  all  earthly  pains 
Fav'ritcs  of  Jesus,  there  they  lie. 

Letting  the  fire  wear  out  their  stains, 
And  worshipping  God's  purity. 

Spouses  of  Christ  they  are,  for  He 
Was  wedded  to  them  by  His  blood ; 

And  angels  o'er  their  destiny 
In  wondering  adoration  brood. 

They  are  the  children  of  thy  tears ; 

Then  hasten.  Mother  !  to  their  aid  ; 
In  pity  think  each  hour  appears 

An  age  while  glory  is  delayed ! 

Sec,  how  they  bound  amid  their  fires, 
While  pain  and  love  their  spirits  fill ; 

Then,  with  self-crucified  desires. 
Utter  sweet  murmurs,  and  lie  still. 


i 


ill 

(! 


398  PURGATORY. 

Ah  me  !  the  love  of  Jesus  yearns 
O'er  that  abyss  of  sacrctl  pain  ; 

And,  as  He  looks,  His  bosom  Inirns 
With  Calvary's  dear  thirst:  again. 

O  Mary !  let  thy  Son  no  more 

His  lingering  spouses  thus  expeet ; 

God's  children  to  their  God  restore, 
And  to  the  Spirit  His  elect. 

Pray  then,  as  thou  hast  ever  prayed ; 

Angels  and  Souls  all  look  to  thee ; 
God  waits  thy  i)rayers,  for  He  hath  made 

Those  prayers  His  law  of  charity. 


THE   DEAD   PRIEST  BEFORE   THE   ALTAR. 

REV.    A.    J.    KYAX. 

Who  will  watch  o'er  the  dead  young  priest, 

People  and  priests  and  all? 
No,  no,  no,  'tis  his  spirit's  feast, 

When  the  evening  shadows  fall. 
Let  him  rest  alone — unwatched,  alone, 

Just  beneath  the  altar's  light, 
The  holy  Hosts  on  their  humble  throne 

Will  watch  him  through  the  night. 

The  doors  were  closed — he  was  still  and  fair, 

What  sound  moved  up  the  aisles  ? 
The  dead  priests  come  with  soundless  praj^er, 

Their  faces  wearing  smiles. 
And  this  was  the  soundless  hymn  they  sung : 

**  We  watch  o'er  you  to-night ; 
Your  life  was  beautiful,  fair  and  young, 

Not  a  ^  loud  upon  its  light. 
To-morrow — to-morrow  you  will  rest 
With  the  virgin  priests  whom  Christ  has  blest." 


T^Fr.KNDARV  AND  rOKTICAT,. 


390 


-' 


adc 


Kyric  Elcisnn  !  the  stricken  crowd 

1J()\v<mI  duwii  llicir  heads  in  tears 
O'er  the  su'cct  youiiu^  priesl  in  liis  vestment  shroud. 

Ah!  the  liai*|)v,  li  >i)i)y  years! 
They  arc  dead  and  j^^one,  and  the  I'veciuieni  Mass 

Went  slowly,  rnnnrntully  on, 
The  Pontitf  's  sini(ing  u  ;is  all  a  wail, 

The  altars  cried  and  the  people  wept, 
The  fairest  llower  in  the  Church's  vale 

Ah  nie  !  how  soon  we  pa3s  ! 

In  the  vase  of  his  coffin  slept. 

— From  In  Mctnoriain. 


I! 


IR. 


!St, 


MEMORIALS  OF  THE  DEAD. 

R.    R.   MADUEN.' 

'Trs  not  alone  in  *'  hallowed  j^round," 

At  every  step  we  tread 
Midst  tombs  and  sepulchres,  are  found 

Memorials  of  the  dead. 


'Tis  not  in  sacred  shrines  alone. 
Or  trophies  proudly  spread 

On  old  cathedral  walls  are  shown 
Memorials  of  the  dead. 


:ir, 
rcr, 


is  • 


1 


lest." 


Emblems  of  Fame  surmounting  death, 

Of  war  and  carnage  dread, 
They  were  not,  in  the  "  Times  of  Faith," 

Memorials  of  the  dead. 

From  marble  bust  and  pictured  traits 

The  living  looks  recede, 
They  fade  away  :  so  frail  are  these 

Memorials  of  the  dead. 

'  Author  of  "Lives  and  Times  of  United  Irishmen." 


400 


rURGATORY. 

On  mural  slabs,  names  loved  of  yore 

Can  now  be  scarcely  read  ; 
A  few  brief  years  liavc  left  no  more 

Memorials  of  the  dead. 

Save  those  which  pass  from  sire  to  son, 

Traditions  that  are  bred 
In  the  heart's  core,  and  make  their  own 

Memorials  of  the  dead. 


A  CHILD'S  REaUIESCAT  IN  PACE. 


ELIZA   ALLEN    STARR. 


With  the  gray  dawn's  faintest  break, 
Mother,  faithiuUy  I  wake, 
Whispering  softly  for  thy  sake 
Rcqiiicscat  in  pace  ! 

When  the  sun's  broad  disk  at  height 
Floods  the  busy  world  with  light, 
Breathes  my  soul  with  sighs  contrite, 
Rcqiiicscat  in  pace  ! 

When  the  twilisfht  shadows  lone 
Wrap  the  home  once,  once  thine  own, 
Sobs  my  heart  with  broken  moan, 
Rcqiiicscat  in  pace  ! 

Night,  so  solemn,  grand,  and  still. 
Trances  forest,  meadow,  rill ; 
Hush,  fond  heart,  adore  I  lis  will, 
Rcqiiicscat  in  pace  ! 


LEGENDARY  AND  TOETICAL. 


401 


)re 

D  son, 
r  own 


B. 


cak, 


:ht 

'ite, 


>wn, 


THE  SOLITARY  SOUL, 

I  DIED ;  but  my  soul  did  not  wing  its  flight  straight  to 
the  hcaven-nest,  and  there  repose  in  the  bosom  of  Ilim 
who  made  it,  as  the  minister  who  was  with  me  said  it 
would.  Good  old  man  !  He  had  toiled  among  us,  preach- 
ing, baptizing,  marrying,  and  burying,  until  his  hair  had 
turned  from  nut-brown  to  frost-white  ;  and  he  told  me,  as 
I  lay  dying,  that  the  victory  of  the  Cross  was  the  only 
passport  I  needed  to  the  joys  of  eternity ;  that  a  life  Hke 
mine  would  meet  its  immediate  reward.  And  it  did  ; 
but,  O  my  God !  not  as  he  had  thought,  and  I  had  be- 
lieved. 

As  he  prayed,  earth's  sights  and  sounds  faded  from  me, 
and  the  strange,  new  life  began.  The  wrench  of  agony 
with  which  soul  and  body  parted  left  me  breathless ;  and 
my  spirit,  like  a  lost  child,  turned  frightened  eyes  to- 
wards home. 

I  stood  in  a  dim,  wind-swept  space.  No  gates  of  pearl 
or  walls  of  jacinth  met  my  gaze ;  no  streaming  glory 
smote  my  eyes ;  no  voice  bade  me  enter  and  put  on  the 
wedding  garment.  Hosts  of  pale  shapes  circled  by, 
but  no  one  saw  me.  All  had  their  faces  uplifted,  and 
their  hands — such  patient,  pathetic  hands — were  clasped 
on  their  hearts ;  and  the  air  was  heavy  with  the  whisper,* 
"  Christ !  Christ !  "  that  came  unceasingly  from  their  lips. 

Above  us,  the  clouds  drifted  and  turned  ;  about  us,  the 
horizon  was  blotted  out ;  mist  and  grayness  were  every- 
where. A  voiceless  wind  swept  by ;  and  as  I  gazed,  sore 
dismayed  and  saddened,  a  rent  opened  in  the  driving 
mass,  and  I  saw  a  man  standing  with  arms  upraised.  lie 
was  strangely  vestured ;  silver  and  gold  gleamed  in  his 
raiment,  and  a  large  cross  was  outlined  upon  his  back. 
He  held  in  his  hands  a  chalice  of  gold,  in  which  sparkled 
something  too  liquid  for  fire,  too  softly  brilliant  for  water 
or  wine. 


r 


I 


402 


rURGATORY. 


As  this  sight  broke  on  our  vision,  two  figures  near  me 
uttered  a  cry,  whose  rapturous  sweetness  filled  space 
with  melody ;  and,  like  the  up-springing  lark,  borne  aloft 
by  the  beauty  of  tlieir  song,  they  vanished  ;  and  those 
about  me  bowed  their  heads,  and  ceased  their  moan  for  a 
moment. 

"What  is  it?"  I  cried.  "Who  is  the  man?  What 
was  it  he  held  in  his  hand  ?  " 

But  there  was  none  to  answer  me,  and  I  drove  along 
before  the  wind  with  the  rest,  helpless,  bewildered. 

How  long  this  lasted  I  do  not  know ;  for  there  was 
neither  night  nor  day  in  the  sad  place  ;  and  a  fire  of  long- 
ing burnt  in  my  breast,  so  keen,  so  strong,  that  all  other 
sensation  was  swallowed  up. 

And  then,  too,  my  grief!  Tiierc  were  many  deeds  of 
my  life  to  which  I  had  given  but  casual  regret.  When 
the  minister  would  counsel  us  to  confess  our  sins  to  God, 
I  had  knelt  in  the  church  and  gone  through  the  form  ; 
but  here,  where  the  height  and  depth  and  breadth  of 
God's  perfection  dawned  upon  me,  and  grew  hourly 
clearer,  they  seemed  to  rend  my  heart,  and  to  far  outweigh 
any  little  good  T  might  have  done.  Oh !  why  did  no 
one  ever  preach  the  justice  of  God  to  me,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  personal  atonement !  Why  had  they  only  taught 
me,  "  Believe,  and  you  shall  be  saved  ?  " 

Time  by  time,  the  shapes  about  me  rose  and  vanished 
with  the  same  cry  as  the  two  I  saw  liberated  in  my  first 
hour;  and  sometimes — like  an  echo — the  sound  of  human 
voices  would  go  through  space — some  choked  with  tears, 
some  low  with  sadness,  some  glad  with  hope. 

**  Eternal  rest  grant  to  them,  O  Lord!" 

"  And  let  perpetual  light  shine  upon  them  !  " 

"  May  they  rest  in  peace  !  " 

And  the  "  Amen  "  tolled  like  a  silver  bell,  and  I  would 
feel  a  respite. 

But  no  one  called  wr  by  name,  no  one  prayed  for  my 
freedom.  My  mother's  voice,  my  sister's  dream,  my 
father's  belief — all  were  that  I  was  happy  before  the  face 


ires  near  mc 
filled  space 
c,  borne  aloft 
1 ;  and  those 
ir  moan  for  a 

nan  ?     What 

drove  alonjr 

dered. 

r  thei-e  was 

fire  of  loner- 

lat  all  other 

ny  deeds  of 
ret.  When 
sins  to  God, 
1  the  form  ; 
breadth  of 
rew  hourly 
ir  outweigh 
ivhy  did  no 
i  the  neces- 
3nly  taught 

id  vanished 

in  my  first 

d  of  human 

with  tears, 


id  I  would 

ed  for  my 
ream,  mv 
■e  the  face 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


403 


of  God.     And   friends  forgot  mc,  except  in  their  pleas- 
ures. 

At  seasons,  through  the  mist  would  loom  an  altar,  at 
which  a  man,  in  black  robes  embroidered  with  silver, 
bowed  and  bent.  The  chalice,  with  its  always  wonder- 
ful contents,  would  be  raised,  and  a  disc,  in  wh(^se  circle 
of  whiteness  I  saw  Christ  crucified.  From  the  thorn- 
wounds,  the  Hands,  the  Feet,  the  Side,  shot  rays  of  daz- 
zling brightness  ;  and  my  frozen  soul,  my  tear-chilled 
eyes,  were  warmed  and  gladdened  ;  for  the  man  who 
held  this  wondrous  image  would  himself  sigh  :  *'  For  all 
the  dead,  sweet  Lord  !  "  And  to  me,  even  me,  would 
come  hope  and  peace. 

But,  oh !  the  agony,  oh  !  the  desolateness,  to  be  cut  off 
from  the  sweet  guerdon  of  immediate  release  !  Oh  !  the 
pain  of  expiating  every  fault,  measure  for  measure  !  Oh, 
the  grief  of  knowing  that  my  own  deeds  were  the  chains 
of  my  captivity,  and  my  unfulfilled  duties  the  barriers 
that  withheld  me  from  beholding  the  Beatific  Vision ! 

Sometimes  a  gracious  face  would  gleam  through  the 
mist — a  face  so  tender,  so  human,  so  full  of  love,  that  I 
yearned  to  hear  it  speak  to  mc,  to  have  those  radiant  eyes 
turned  on  mc.  My  companions  called  her  "■  Mary  !  "  and 
I  knew  it  was  the  Virgin  of  Nazareth.  Often  she  would 
call  them  by  name,  and  say:  "My  child,  my  Son  bids 
thee  come  home." 

Why  had  I  never  known  this  gentle  Mother!  Why 
could  I  not  catch  her  mantle,  and  clinging  to  it,  pass 
from  waiting  to  fulfilment ! 

Once  when  I  had  grown  grief-bowed  with  waiting, 
worn  with  longing,  I  saw  again  the  vision  of  the  Church. 
At  a  long  railing  knelt  many  young  girls,  and  they  re- 
ceived at  the  hands  of  the  priest  what  I  had  learned  to 
discern  as  the  Body  of  the  Lord.  One — God  bless  her 
tender  heart ! — whispered  as  she  knelt :  "  O  dearest  Lord, 
I  offer  to  Thee  this  Holy  Communion  for  the  soul  tJiat 
has  no  one  to  pray  fo7'  licr.'' 

And  through  the  grayness  rang  at  last  my  name,  and 


I 


\ 


404 


rURGATORY. 


straight   to   heaven    I   went,   ransomed   by  that   mighty 
price,  freed  by  prayer  from  prison. 

■»  %(•  ^-  •:<-  %  *  * 

O  you  who  live,  who  have  voices  and  hearts,  for  the 
sake  of  Christ  and  His  Holy  Mother ;  by  the  love  you 
bear  your  living,  and  the  grief  you  give  your  dead,  pray 
for  those  whose  friends  do  not  know  how  to  help  them  ; 
for  the  suddenly  killed ;  for  the  executed  criminal ;  and 
for  those  who,  having  suffered  long  in  Purgatory,  need 
one  more  prayer  to  set  them  free. — Ave  Alaria,  Novem- 
ber 10,  1883. 


THE  STORY   OF   THE   FAITHFUL   SOUL. 

Founded  on  an  old  French  Lec^end. 

ADELAIDE   ANNE   PROCTER. 

The  fettered  spirits  linger 

In  purgatorial  pain, 
With  penal  fires  effacing 

Their  last  faint  earthly  stain, 
Which  Life's  imperfect  sorrow 

Had  tried  to  cleanse  in  vain. 

Yet,  on  each  feast  of  jNIary 
Their  sorrow  finds  release, 

For  the  great  Archangel  Michael 
Comes  down  and  bids  it  cease ; 

And  the  name  of  these  brief  respites 
Is  called  "  Our  Lady's  Peace." 

Yet  once — so  runs  the  legend — 
When  the  Archangel  came, 

And  all  these  holy  spirits 
Rejoiced  at  jNlary's  name, 

One  voice  alone  was  wailing, 
Still  wailing  on  the  same. 


that   mighty 


* 


arts,  for  the 
le  love  you 
'  dead,  pray 
help  them  ; 
iminal ;  and 
atory,  need 
-ia,  Novem- 


ri. 


3S 


LEGENDARY   AND   TCETICAL. 

And  though  a  great  Te  Deiun 
The  happy  echoes  woke, 

This  one  discordant  wailing 

Through  the  sweet  voices  broke  ; 

So  when  St.  Michael  questioned, 
Thus  the  poor  spirit  spoke  : — 

"  I  am  not  cold  or  thankless, 
Although  I  still  complain ; 

I  prize  Our  Lady's  blessing, 
Although  it  comes  in  vain 

To  still  my  bitter  anguish, 
Or  quench  my  ceaseless  pain. 

"  On  earth  a  heart  that  loved  mc 
Still  lives  and  mourns  me  there. 

And  the  shadow  of  his  anguish 
Is  more  than  I  can  bear ; 

All  the  torment  that  I  suffer 
Is  the  thought  of  his  despair. 

"  The  evening  of  my  bridal 
Death  took  my  Life  away ; 

Not  all  Love's  passionate  pleading 
Could  gain  an  hour's  delay. 

And  he  I  left  has  suffered 
A  whole  year  since  that  day. 

"  If  I  could  only  see  him — 

If  I  could  only  go 
And  speak  one  word  of  comfort 

And  solace — then,  I  know, 
He  would  endure  with  patience, 

And  strive  against  his  woe." 

Thus  the  Archangel  answered  : 
''  Your  time  of  pain  is  brief, 

And  soon  the  peace  of  Heaven 
Will  give  you  full  relief; 


405 


J 


. 


406 


'  t 


PURGATORY. 

Yet  if  his  earthly  comfort 

So  much  outweighs  your  grief, 

"  Then,  through  a  special  mercy, 

I  offer  you  this  irrace — 
You  may  seek  him  who  mourns  you 

And  look  upon  his  face, 
And  speak  to  him  of  comfort, 

For  one  short  minute's  space. 

"  But  when  that  time  is  ended, 

Return  here  and  remain 
A  thousand  3'ears  in  torment, 

A  thousand  years  in  pain  ; 
Thus  dearly  must  you  purchase 

The  comfort  he  will  gain." 


^- 


Ht 


■K- 


The  lime-trees'  shade  at  evening 
Is  spreading  broad  and  wide; 

Beneath  their  fragrant  arches 
Pace  slowly,  side  by  side. 

In  low  and  tender  converse, 
A  Bridegroom  and  his  Bride. 

The  night  is  calm  and  stilly, 

No  other  sound  is  there 
Except  their  happy  voices — 

What  is  that  cold  bleak  air 
That  passes  through  the  lime-trees, 

And  stirs  the  Bridegroom's  hair? 

While  one  low  cry  of  anguish. 

Like  the  last  dying  wail 
Of  some  dumb,  hunted  creature, 

Is  borne  upon  the  gale — 
Why  does  the  Bridegroom  shudder 

And  turn  so  deathly  pale  ? 


ou 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


407 


't- 


Near  Purgatory's  entrance 

The  radiant  Angels  wait ; 
It  was  the  great  wSt.  Michael 

Who  closed  that  gloomy  gate, 
When  the  poor  wandering  spirit 

Came  back  to  meet  her  fate. 

"  Pass  on,"  thus  spoke  the  Angel : 
''  Heaven's  joy  is  deep  and  vast ; 

Pass  on,  pass  on,  poor  spirit. 
For  Heaven  is  yours  at  last ; 

In  that  one  minute's  anguish, 
Your  thousand  years  have  passed." 


GENERADE,   THE   FRIEND   OF    ST.  AUGUSTINE. 

J.   COLLIN    DE    I'LANCV. 

St.  Augustine  reckoned  among  his  friends  the  phy- 
sician Generade,  highly  honored  in  Carthage,  where  his 
learning  and  skUl  were  much  esteemed.  But  by  one  of 
those  misfortunes  of  which  there  are,  unhappily,  but  too 
many  examples,  while  studying  the  admirable  mechanism 
of  the  human  body,  he  had  come  to  believe  matter  capa- 
ble of  the  works  of  intelligence  which  raise  man  so  far 
above  other  created  beings.  He  was,  therefore,  a  mate- 
rialist ;  and  St.  x\ugustine,  praying  for  htm,  earnestly  be- 
sought God  to  enlighten  that  deluded  mind. 

One  night  while  he  slept,  this  doctor,  who  believed,  as 
some  do  still,  that  "  when  one  is  dead,  all  is  dead  "—we 
quote  their  own  language — saw  in  his  dreams  a  young 
man,  who  said  to  him  :  "  Follow  me."  He  did  so,  and 
was  conducted  to  a  city,  wherein  he  heard,  on  the  right, 
unknown  melodies,  which  iilled  him  with  admiration. 
What  he  heard  on  the  left  he  never  remembered.     But 


-"Tiiiiii  rii ^ 


:|', 


if 


408 


rURGATORY. 


on  awaking  he  concluded,  from  this  vision,  that  there 
was,  somewhere,  something  else  besides  tliis  world. 

Another  night  he  likewise  beheld  in  sleep  the  same 
young  man,  who  said  to  him : 

"  Knowest  thou  me?" 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Gcnerade. 

"  And  wherefore  knowest  thou  me  ?" 

"  Because  of  the  journey  we  made  together  when  you 
showed  me  the  city  of  harmony." 

"  Was  it  in  a  dream,  or  awake,  that  you  saw  and  heard 
what  struck  you  then  ?  " 

"  It  was  in  a  dream." 

**  Where  is  your  body  now?  " 

"  In  my  bed." 

"  Knowest  thou  well  that  thou  now  seest  nothing  with 
the  eyes  of  the  body  ? " 

"  I  know  it." 

"  With  what  eyes,  then,  dost  thou  see  me?" 

As  the  physician  hesitated,  and  could  not  answer,  the 
young  man  said  to  him  : 

"  Even  as  thou  seest  and  hearest  me,  now  that  thin 3 
eyes  arc  closed  and  thy  senses  benumbed,  so,  after  thy 
death,  thou  slialt  live,  thou  shalt  sec,  thou  shalt  hear — 
but  with  the  organs  of  the  soul.     Doubt,  then,  no  more!" 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 


409 


n,  that  there 
world, 
ep  the  same 


cr  when  you 


L\v  and  heard 


nothing  witli 


f  answer,  the 

w  that  thin  3 
so,  after  thy 
shalt  hear — 
I,  no  more!" 


ST.  THOMAS  AaUINAS  AND    FRIAE   ROMANUS. 

We  are  about  to  treat  of  facts  concerninj^  which  our 
fathers  never  had  any  hesitation,  because  they  had  faith. 
Nowadays,  the  trutiis  which  are  above  the  material 
sight  have  been  so  roughly  handled  that  they  are  nuicli 
diminished  for  us.  And  if  the  goodness  of  God  had  not 
allowed  some  rays  of  the  mysteries  which  He  reserves 
for  Himself  to  escape,  if  some  gleams  of  magnetism  and 
the  world  of  spirits  occupying  the  air  around  us  had  not 
a  little  embarrassed  those  of  our  literati  who  make  a 
merit  of  not  believing,  we  would  hardly  dare,  in  spite  of 
the  grave  authorities  on  which  they  rest,  to  represent 
here  some  apparitions  of  souls  departed  from  this  world. 
We  shall  venture  to  do  so,  nevertheless. 

One  day,  when  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  was  praying  in  the 
Church  of  the  Friars,  Preachers,  at  Naples,  the  pious 
friar  Romanus,  whom  he  had  left  in  Paris,  where  he  re- 
placed him  in  the  chair  of  Theology,  suddenly  appeared 
beside  him.     Thomas,  seeing  him,  said  : 

"  I  am  (Aad  of  thine  arrival.  But  how  long  hast  thou 
been  here  ? " 

Romanus  answered  :  '*  I  am  now  out  of  this  world. 
Nevertheless,  I  am  permitted  to  come  to  thee,  because  of 
thy  merit." 

The  Saint,  alarmed  at  this  reply,  after  a  moment's  rec- 
ollection, said  to  the  apparition:  "I  adjure  thee,  by 
Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  tell  me  simply  if  my  w(3rks  arc 
pleasing  to  God  !  " 

Romanus  replied :  "  Persevere  in  the  way  in  which 
thou  art,  and  believe  that  what  thou  doest  is  agreeable 
unto  God." 

Thomas  then  asked  him  in  what  state  he  found  himself. 

"  I  enjoy  eternal  life,"  answered  Romanus.  "  Never- 
theless, for  having  carelessly  executed  one  clause  of  a 
will  which  the  Bishop  of  Paris  gave  me  in  charge,  I 
underwent  for  fifteen  days  the  pains  of  Purgatory." 


ii  'I 


il  ! 


410 


PURGATORY. 


wSt.  Thomas  again  said  :  "  You  remind  mc  that  wc 
often  diseusscd  the  question  wliether  the  knowlcdj^e  ac- 
quired in  this  Hie  remain  in  the  soul  alter  death.  I  pray 
you  give  me  the  solution  thereof." 

Romanus  made  answer  :  "  Ask  me  not  that.  As  for 
me,  I  am  content  with  seeing  my  God." 

"  Seest  th(ju  him  face  to  face?"  went  on  Thomas. 

"  Just  as  we  have  been  taught,"  replied  Romanus, "  and 
as  1  see  thee." 

With  these  words  he  left  St.  Thomas  greatly  consoled. 


THE  KEY  THAT  NEVER  TURNS. 


ELEANOR    C.    PONNKI.LY. 


<( 


In  Purgatory,  dear,"  I  said  to-day, 
Unto  my  pet,  "  the  fire  burns  and  burns, 
Until  each  ugly  stain  is  burned  away — 

And  then  an  Angel  turns 
A  great,  bright  key,  and  forth  the  gind  soul  springs 
Into  the  presence  of  the  King  of  kings." 

"  But  in  that  other  prison  ?  "     "  ^Sweetest  love ! 

The  same  fierce  fire  burns  and  burns,  but  thence 
None  e'er  escapes."     The  blue  eyes,  raised  above, 

Were  fair  with  innocence. 
'*  Poor  burning  souls!  "  she  whispered  low,  "  ah  mc  ! 
No  Angel  ever  comes  to  turn  their  key !  " 


VaJSlL^ 


""^  ( t  ff^>  ;'^?J^^s>« 


mc  that  wc 
lowlcdj^c  iic- 
jath.     I  pray 

that.    As  for 

'homas. 
jmanus, "  and 

itly  consoled. 


JS. 


rns, 


soul  springs 


■st  love ! 
but  thence 
ised  above, 

low,  "  ah  mc  ! 


LEUENDARV    AND    rOl^TK  \L. 


411 


THE    BURIAL. 


THOMAS   DAVIS. 


♦'  Ul-ULU  !  ululu  !  wail  for  the  dead, 

Green  grow  the  grass  of  Fingal  on  his  head  ; 

And  spring-llowers  blossom,  ere  elsewhere  appearing. 

And  siiamrocks  grow  thick  on  the  martyr  lor  Erin. 

Ululu  !  ululu  !  soft  fall  the  dew 

On  thafect  and  the  head  of  the  martyred  and  true." 

For  a  while  they  tread 

In  silence  dread — 

Then  muttering  and  moaning  go  the  crowd. 

Surging  and  swaying  like  mountain  cloud. 

And  again  the  wail  comes  wild  and  loud. 

"  Ululu  !  ululu  !  kind  was  his  heart ! 
Walk  slower,  walk  slower,  too  soon  we  shall  part. 
The  faithful  and  pious,  the  Iciest  of  the  Lord, 
His  pilgrimage  over,  he  has  his  reward. 

*'  By  the  bed  of  the  sick,  lowly  kneeling. 

To  God  with  the  raised  cross  appealing — 

He  seems  still  to  kneel,  and  he  seems  still  to  pray. 

And  the  sins  of  the  dying  seem  i)assing  away. 

"  In  the  prisoner's  cell,  and  the  cabin  so  dreary. 

Our  constant  consoler,  he  never  grew  weary  ; 

But  he's  gone  to  his  rest. 

And  he's  now  with  the  blest, 

Where  tyrant  and  traitor  no  longer  molest — 

Ululu  !  ululu  !  wail  for  the  dead  ! 

Ululu  !  ululu  !  here  is  his  bed." 

Short  was  the  ritual,  simple  the  prayer. 
Deep  was  the  silence,  and  every  head  bare ; 


V    ' 


412 


rURGATORV. 


The  Priest  alone  staiulinj^,  they  knelt  all  around, 
Myriads  on  myriads,  like  rocks  on  the  ground. 
Kneeling-  and  motionless.—"  Dust  unto  dust." 
"  lie  died  as  becometh  the  faithful  and  just- 
Placing  in  God  his  reliance  and  trust ;  " 

Kneeling  and  motionless—"  Ashes  to  ashes"— 

Hollow  the  clay  on  the  coffin-lid  dashes  ; 

Kneeling  and  motionless,  wildly  they  pray, 

But  they  ])ray  in  their  souls,  for  no  gesture  have  they- 

Stern  and  standing— oh  !  look  on  them  now  ! 

Like  trees  to  one  tempest  the  multitude  bow. 


HYMN  FOR   THE  DEAD. 

NEWMAN. 

Help,  Lord,  the  souls  which  Thou  hast  made, 

The  souls  to  Thee  so  dear, 
In  prison,  for  the  debt  unpaid 

C3f  sins  committed  here. 


Those  holy  souls,  they  suffer  on, 

Resign'd  in  heart  and  will, 
Until  Thy  high  behest  is  done, 

And  justice  has  its  fill. 
For  daily  falls,  for  pardon'd  crime, 

They  joy  to  undergo 
The  shado\v  of  Thy  cross  sublime. 

The  remnant  of  Thy  woe. 

Help,  Lord,  the  soids  which  Thou  hast  made, 

The  souls  to  Thee  30  dear, 
In  prison,  for  the  debt  unpaid 

Of  sins  committed  here. 


IJ'r.KNDAUY   AND   rOFTKAI,. 


413 


md, 
d. 


\ 


lavc  tlicy- 


( )h  !  by  their  patience  ol  delay, 

Their  hope  amid  tlieir  pain, 
Tiieir  sacred  zeal  to  burn  away 

Disti^iireinent  and  stain; 
Oh  !  by  their  tire  of  h)ve,  not  less 

In  keenness  than  the  llanie, 
Oh  !  by  their  very  helplessness, 

Oh!  by  Thy  own  ^leat  Name, 

• 

Good  Jcsu,  help!  sweet  Jcsu,  aid 
The  souls  to  Thee  most  dear, 

In  j)rison,  for  the  debt  unpaid 
Of  sins  committed  here. 


st  made. 


it  made, 


THE   TWO   STUDENTS. 

The  Abbe  dc  Saint  Pierre,  says  Collin  dc  Plancy,  has 
given  a  long  account,  in  his  works,  of  a  singular  occur- 
rence which  took  place  in  1697,  and  whiclf  wc  are  in- 
clined to  relate  here  : 

In  1695,  a  student  named  Bczucl,  then  about  fifteen 
years  old,  contracted  a  friendship  with  two  other  youths, 
students  like  himself,  and  sons  of  an  attorney  of  Caen, 
named  D'Abaquenc.  The  elder  was,  like  Bezucl,  fifteen  ; 
his  brother,  eighteen  months  younger.  The  latter  was 
named  Desfontaines.  The  paternal  name  was  then  given 
only  to  the  eldest ;  the  names  of  those  who  came  after 
were  formed  by  means  of  some  vague  properties.     .     .     . 

As  the  young  Desfontaines'  character  was  more  in 
unison  with  Bczucl's  than  that  of  his  elder  brother, 
these  two  students  became  strongly  attached  to  each 
other. 

One  day  during  the  following  year,  1696,  they  were 
reading  together  a  certain  history  of  two  friends  like  them- 
selves, who  had  promised  each  other,  with  some  solem- 


^1  1 


31    ■' 


414 


rURGATORY. 


nitv,  tliat  he  of  the  two  who  died  first  would  come  back 
to  i^ivc  the  survivor  some  account  of  his  state.  The  his- 
torian added  that  the  dead  one  really  did  come  back,  and 
that  he  told  ins  friend  many  wonderful  things.  Young 
Desfontaines,  struck  by  this  narrative,  which  he  did  not 
doubt,  proposed  to  Bezuel  that  they  should  make  such  a 
promise  one  to  the  other.  Bezuel  was  at  first  afraid  of 
such  an  engagement.  But  several  months  after,  in  the 
first  da3's  of  June,  1697,  as  liis  friend  was  going  to  set  out 
for  Caen,  he  agreed  to  his  jn-oposal. 

Desfontaincs  then  drew  from  his  pocket  two  papers  in 
which  he  had  written  the  double  agreement.  Each  of 
these  papers  expressed  the  formal  promise  on  the  part  of 
him  who  should  die  first  to  come  and  make  his  fate 
known  to  the  surviving  friend.  He  had  signed  with  his 
blood  the  one  that  Bezuel  was  to  keep.  Bezuel,  hes- 
itating no  longer,  pricked  his  hand,  and  likewise  signed 
with  his  blood  the  other  document,  which  he  gave  to 
Desfontaincs. 

The  latter,  delighted  to  have  the  promise,  set  out  with 
his  brother.  Bezuel  received  some  days  after  a  letter,  in 
which  his  friend  informed  him  that  he  had  reached  his 
home  in  safety,  and  was  very  well.  The  correspondence 
between  them  was  to  continue.  But  it  stopped  very 
soon,  and  Bezuel  was  uneasy. 

It  happened  that  on  the  31st  of  July,  1697,  being  about 
2  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  in  a  meadow  where  his  com- 
panions were  amusing  themselves  with  various  games, 
he  felt  himself  suddenly  stunned  and  taken  with  a  sort  of 
faintness,  which  lasted  for  some  minutes.  Next  day,  at 
the  same  hour,  he  felt  the  same  symptoms,  and  again  on 
the  day  after.  But  then — it  was  Friday,  the  2d  of  August 
— he  saw  advancing  towards  him  liis  friend  Desfontaincs, 
who  made  a  sign  for  him  to  come  to  him.  Being  in  a 
sitting  posture,  and  under  the  influence  of  his  swoon,  he 
made  another  sign  to  the  apparition,  moving  on  his  seat 
to  make  place  for  him. 


I  come  back 
c.  The  liis- 
ic  back,  and 
gs.  You  no- 
he  did  not 
iiakc  such  a 
rst  afraid  of 
iftcr,  in  the 
g  to  set  out 

o  papers  in 
t.  Each  of 
the  part  of 
ke  his  fate 
ed  with  his 
5czucl,  hes- 
visc  sicrncd 
he  gave  to 

et  out  with 
a  letter,  in 
cached  his 
spondence 
pped  very 

eing  about 
his  com- 
us  games, 
h  a  sort  of 
^xt  day,  at 
^l  again  on 
of  .Vugust 
sfontaincs, 
icing  in  a 
swoon,  he 
n  liis  seat 


LEC.EXDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


415 


The  comrades  of  Bczucl  moving  around  saw  this  mo- 
tion, and  were  surprised. 

As  Desfontaincs  did  not  advance,  Bczucl  arose  to  go 
to  him.  The  ai)pariti()n  then  took  him  l)v  the  left  arm, 
drew  him  aside  some  tliirty  paces,  and  said  : 

"  I  promised  you  that,  if  I  died  before  3'ou,  1  would 
come  to  tell  you.  I  was  drowned  yesterday  in  the  river 
at  Caen,  about  this  hour.  I  was  out  walking  ;  it  was  so 
warm  that  we  took  a  notion  to  bathe.  A  weakness  came 
over  me  in  the  river,  and  I  sank  to  the  bottom.  The 
Abbe  de  Menil-Jcan,  my  companion,  plunged  in  to  draw 
me  out ;  I  seized  his  foot ;  but  whether  he  thought  it  was 
a  salmon  that  had  caught  hold  of  him,  or  that  he  felt  it 
actually  necessary  to  go  up  to  the  surface  of  the  water 
to  breathe,  he  shook  me  off  so  roughly  that  his  foot  gave 
m.e  a  great  blow  in  the  chest,  and  threw  me  to  the  bottom 
of  the  river,  which  is  there  ver)'  dcc[)." 

IJcsfontaines  then  told  his  friend  many  other  things, 
which  he  would  not  divulge,  whether  the  dead  boy  had 
prayed  him  not  to  do  so,  or  for  other  reasons. 

Bezuel  wanted  to  embrace  the  apparition,  but  he  found 
only  a  shadow.  Nevertheless,  the  shadow  had  squeezed 
his  arm  so  tightly,  that  it  pained  him  after. 

He  saw  the  spirit  several  times,  yet  always  a  little 
taller  than  when  they  parted,  and  always  in  the  half- 
clothing  of  a  bather.  He  wore  in  his  fair  hair  a  scroll  on 
wliich  Bezuel  could  only  read  the  word  In.  His  voice 
had  the  same  sound  as  when  he  vras  living,  he  app»eaied 
neither  n;ay  nor  sad,  but  perfectly  tranquil.  He  charged 
his  friend  with  several  commissions  for  his  parents,  and 
begged  him  to  sav  for  him  the  Seven  Penitential  Psalms, 
which  had  been  given  him  as  a  penance  l)y  his  confessor, 
three  days  before  his  death,  and  which  he  had  not  yet 
recited. 

Tlie  apparition  always  ended  by  a  farev7cll  expressed 
in  words  which  signified  :  "Till  we  meet  again!  {An  rc- 
voir ly     At  last,  it  ceased  at  the  end  of  some  weeks; 


I  ( 


I     ^ 


l\   I 


i' 
•ii 

I' 


■i  I 


416 


PURGATORY. 


and  the  survivin^^  friend,  who  had  constantly  prayed  for 
the  dead,  concluded  from  this  that  his  Purgatory  was 
over. 

This  jNIonsieur  Bezuel  finished  his  studies,  embraced 
the  ecclesiastical  state,  became  ciifr  of  Valogne,  and  lived 
long,  esteemed  by  his  parishioners  and  the  whole  city, 
for  his  good  sense,  his  virtuous  life,  and  his  love  of  truth. 


THE    PENANCE    OF    DON    DIEGO    RIEZ. 

A  Legend  pf  Lough  Derg} 

T.  D.  MCGEE. 

There  was  a  knight  of  Spain — Diego  Riaz, 

Noble  by  four  descents,  vain,  rich  and  young, 
Much  woe  he  wrought,  or  the  tradition  lie  is, 

Which  lived  of  old  the  Castilians  among  ; 
His  horses  bore  the  palm  the  kingdom  over, 

His  plume  was  tall,  costliest  his  sword. 
The  proudest  maidens  wished  him  as  a  lover, 

The  caballcros  all  revered  his  word 

But  ere  his  day's  meridian  came,  his  spirit 

Fell  sick,  grew  palsied  in  his  breast,  and  pined — 
He  fear'd  Christ's  kingdom  he  could  ne'er  inherit, 

The  causes  wherefore  too  well  he  divined. 
Where'er  he  turns,  his  sins  are  always  near  him. 

Conscience  still  holds  her  mirror  to  his  eyes. 
Till  those  who  long  had  envied  came  to  fear  him. 

To  mock  his  clouded  brow  and  wintry  sighs. 

'  Lough  Derg,  in  Donegal,  was  a  place  famous  for  pilgrimage  from  a 
very  early  period,  and  was  much  resorted  to  out  of  France,  Ital)',  and  tl'.e 
Peninsula,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  even  in  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 
teenth centuries  In  Mathew  Paris,  and  Froissart,  as  well  as  in  our  native 
annals,  and  in  O'Sullivan  Bcare,  there  are  many  facts  of  its  extraordinary 
history. 


1 


li    « 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


4^7 


rayed  for 
itory  was 

embraced 
and  lived 
lole  city, 
'  of  truth. 


Alas  !  the  sins  of  youth  are  as  a  chain 

Of  iron,  swiftly  let  down  to  the  deep, 
How  far  we  feel  not — till  when,  we'd  raise  't  again 

We  pause  amid  the  weary  work  and  weep. 
Ah,  it  is  sad  a-down  Life's  stream  to  see 

So  many  aged  toilers  so  distress'd, 
And  near  the  source — a  thousand  forms  of  glee 

Fitting  the  shackle  to  Youth's  glowing  breast. 


r 

5» 


He  sought  peace  in  the  city  where  she  dwells  not, 

He  wooed  her  amid  woodlands  all  in  vain, 
He  searches  through  the  valleys,  but  he  tells  not 

The  secret  of  his  quest  to  priest  or  swain, 
Until,  despairing  evermore  of  pleasure, 

He  leaves  his  land,  and  sails  to  far  Peru  ; 
There,  stands  uncharm'd  in  caverns  of  treasure. 

And  weeps  on  mountains  heavenly  high  and  blue. 


d— 
■it, 


Incessant  in  his  ears  rang  this  plain  warning — • 

"  Diego,  as  thy  soul,  thy  sorrow  lives '" ; 
He  hears  the  untired  voice,  night,  noon,  and  morning, 

Yet  understanding  not,  unresting  grieves. 
One  eve,  a  purer  vision  seized  him,  then  he 

Vow'd  to  Lough  Derg,  an  humble  pilgrimage — 
The  virtues  of  that  shrine  were  known  to  many. 

And  saving  held  even  in  that  skeptic  age. 


1, 


e  from  a 
and  (l;e 
cl  scven- 
jr  native 
ordinary 


t 


With  one  sole  follower,  an  Esquire  trustful, 

He  pass'd  the  southern  cape  which  sailors  fear. 
And  eastward  held :  meanwhile  his  vain  and  lustful 

Past  works  more  loathsome  to  his  soul  appear. 
Through  the  night-watches,  at  all  hours  o'  day, 

He  still  was  wakeful  as  the  pilot,  and 
For  grace,  his  vow  to  keep,  doth  always  pray, 

And  for  his  death  to  lie  in  the  saints'  land. 


I 


IIF^ 


iilil 


1 1 


p 


418 


rURGyVTORY. 


But  ere  his  eyes  beheld  the  Irish  shore, 

Diego  died.     Much  gold  he  did  ordain 
To  God  and  Santiago — furthermore, 

His  Esquire  pHghted,  ere  he  went  to  Spain, 
To  journey  to  the  Refuge  of  tlie  Lake  ; 

Before  wSt.  I'atrick's  soHtary  shrine, 
A  nine  days'  vigil  for  his  rest  to  make. 

Living  on  bitter  bread  and  penitential  wine.' 

The  vassal  vow'd  ;  but,  ah  !  how  seldom  pledges 

Given  to  the  dying,  to  the  dead,  are  held  ! 
The  Esquire  reach'd  the  shore,  where  sand  and  sedge  is 

O'er  melancholy  hills,  by  paths  of  eld  ; 
Treeless  and  houscle^'S  was  the  prospect  round. 

Rock-strewn  and  boisterous  the  lake  before ; 
A  Charon-shape  in  a  skiff  a-ground — 

The  pilgrim  turned,  and  left  the  sacred  shore. 

That  night  he  lay  a-bed  hard  by  the  Erne — 

The  island-spangled  lake — but  could  not  sleep — 
When  lo !  beside  him,  pale,  and  sad,  and  stern. 

Stood  his  dead  master,  risen  from  the  deep. 
"Arise,"  he  said,  "and  come."     From  the  hostelrie 

And  over  the  bleak  hills  he  led  the  sleeper. 
And  when  they  reach'd   Derg's  shore,  "  Get  in  with  me," 

He  cried  ;  "  nor  sink  my  soul  in  torments  deeper." 

The  dead  man  row'd  the  boat,  the- living  steer'd, 

Each  in  his  pallor  sinister,  until 
The  Isle  of  Pilgrimage  they  duly  near'd — 

■'  Now  hie  thee  forth,  and  work  thy  master's  will ! " 
So  spoke  the  dead,  and  vanish 'd  o'er  che  lake, 

The  Squire  pursued  his  course,  and  gain'd  the  shrine, 
There,  nine  days'  vigil  duly  he  did  make. 

Living  on  bitter  bread  and  penitential  wine. 

'  The  brackish  waler  of  ihc  lake,  boiled,  is  called  wine  by  the  pilgrims. 


'--t 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 


419 


The  tenth  eve  shone  in  solemn,  starry  beauty, 

As  he,  rejoieing,  o'cv  the  old  paths  came, 
Light  was  his  lieart  iVom  its  accomplished  duty. 

All  was  ftM-.ij^ottcn,  even  the  latest  shame- 
When  these  brief  words  some  disembodied  voice 

Spoke  near  him  :  "  Oh,  keep  sacred,  evermore, 
Word,  pledge,  and  vow,  so  may  you  still  rejoice. 

And  live  among  the  Just  when  Time  is  o'er!  " 


sdge  is 


THE  DAY  OF  ALL  SOULS. 


EI.IZA    AI.Lr.N    STARR. 


le 


th  me," 


2T. 


II!" 
shrine, 


) 


ilgrims. 


From  the  far  past  there  comes  a  thought  of  sweetness. 
From  the  far  past  a  thought  of  love  and  pain ; 

A  voice,  how  dear  !  a  look  of  melting  kindness, 
A  voice,  a  look,  we  ne'er  shall  know  again. 

A  fresh,  young  face,  perchance  of  boyish  gladness, 
An  aged  face,  perchance  of  patient  love ; 

My  heart-strings  fail,  I  sob  in  utter  anguish. 
As  past  my  eyes  these  lovely  spectres  move. 

The  chill  morn  breaks,  the  matin  star  still  flaming; 

The  hushed  cathedral's  massive  door  stands  wide  ; 
Through  the  dim  aisles  I  pass,  in  silent  wee^.^ng, 

From  mortal  eyes  my  sorrowing  tears  to  hide. 

Already  morn  has  touched  the  painted  windows ; 

The  yellow  dawn  creeps  down  the  storied  panes ; 
Already,  in  the  early  solemn  twilight, 

The  sanctuary's  taper  softly  wanes. 

My  faltering  step  before  the  altar  pauses ; 

My  treasur'd  dead  I  see  remembered  here  ; 
All  climes,  all  nations,  lost  on  land  or  ocean. 

They  on  whose  grave  none  ever  drop  a  tear. 


420 


PURGATORY. 


Ii    H 


ft 


The  Church,  their  single  mourner,  drapes  in  sorrow 
The  festal  shrines  she  loves  with  flowers  to  dress ; 

And  "  Kyrie  !  Kyrie  !  "  sighs,  while  lowly  bending 
To  Thee,  O  God !  to  shorten  their  distress. 

^^  Dies  inc,  dies  ilia,'''  sobs  the  choir; 

"-In  pace, pace,"'  from  the  altar  rises  higher; 
"  Lux  externa  ;  "  daylight  floods  the  altar, 
Priest  and  choir  take  up  the  holy  psalter. 
*'  Requicscant  in  pace  !  " 
Amen,  amen,  in  pace  ! 


THE  MESSAGE   OF  THE  NOVEMBER  WIND. 


BY    EI.'JANOR    C.    DONNELLY. 


Wrapped  in  lonely  shadows  late, 

(Bleak  November's  midnight  gloom), 
As  I  kneel  beside  the  grate 

In  the  silent  sitting-room  : 
Down  the  chimney  moans  the  wind, 
Like  the  voice  of  souls  resigned, 
Pleading  from  their  prison  thus, 

**  Pray  for  us  !  pray  for  us  ! 
Gentle  Christian,  watcher  kind, 

Pray  for  us,  oh  !  pray  for  us !  " 

II. 
Melt  mine  eyes  with  sudden  tears — 

Old  familiar  tones  are  there  ; 
Dear  ones  lost  in  other  years. 

Breathing  Purgatory's  prayer. 
Through  my  fingers  pass  the  beads, 
Tender  heart,  responsive  bleeds, 
As  the  wind,  all  tremulous, 

"  Pray  for  vis !  pray  for  us !  " 
Seems  to  murmur  **  Love  our  needs — 

Pray  for  us  !  oh,  pray  for  us  !  " 


LEGENDARY  AND   POETICAL. 


421 


rrow 
xss; 
ing 


A  LEGEND   OF   THE  TIME   OF   CHARLEMAGNE. 


ND. 


1), 


We  read  in  the  Grs/a  Caroli  Ufagiii  that  CharlcmafT^ne 
had  a  man-at-arms  who  served  him  faithfully  till  his 
death.  Before  breathing  his  last  he  called  a  nephew  of 
his,  to  make  known  to  him  his  last  will : 

"  Sixty  years,"  said  he,  ''  have  1  been  in  the  service  of 
my  prince ;  I  have  never  amassed  the  goods  of  this 
world,  and  my  arms  and  my  horse  arc  all  I  have.  My 
arms  I  leave  to  thee,  and  I  will  that  my  horse  be  sold  im- 
mediately after  mv  death;  I  charge  thee  with  the  care  of 
this  matter,  if  thou  wilt  promise  me  to  distribute  the  full 
price  amongst  the  poor." 

The  nephew  promised  to  execute  the  will  of  his  uncle, 
who  died  in  peace,  for  he  was  a  good  and  loyal  Christian. 
But  when  he  was  laid  in  the  earth  the  young  man,  con- 
sidering that  the  horse  was  a  very  fine  one,  and  well- 
trained,  was  tempted  to  keep  him  for  himself.  lie  did 
not  sell  him,  and  gave  no  money  to  the  poor.  Six  months 
after,  the  soul  of  the  dead  man  appeared  to  him  and  said  : 
'*  Thou  hast  not  accomplished  that  which  I  had  ordered 
thee  to  do  for  the  welfare  of  my  soul,  and  for  six  months 
I  have  suffered  great  pains  in  Purgatory.  But  behold 
God,  the  strict  Judge  of  all  things,  has  decreed,  and  His 
angels  will  execute  the  decree,  that  my  soul  be  placed  in 
eternal  rest,  and  that  thine  shall  undergo  all  the  pains 
and  torments  which  I  had  still  to  undergo  for  the  expia- 
tion of  my  sins." 

Thereupon  the  nephew,  being  instantly  seized  with  a 
violent  disease,  had  barely  time  to  confess  to  a  priest, 
who  had  just  been  announced.  He  died  shortl}^  after, 
and  went  to  pay  the  debt  he   had  undertaken  to  dis- 


charge. 


422 


PURGATORY. 


THE   DEAD   MASS. 


i  .; 


if  ^ 


1  : 


It  has  been,  and  vStill  is  l)clicvcd,  that  the  mcrcv  of 
God  sometimes  permits  souls  that  have  sins  to  expiate,  to 
come  and  expiate  them  on  earth.  Of  tiiis  tlie  t'uUowing 
is  an  example  : 

Polet,  the  principal  suburb  of  Dieppe,  is  still  inhabited 
almost  exclusively  by  fishermen,  who,  in  past  times,  more 
especially,  have  ever  been  solid  and  faithful  Christians. 
The  Catholic  worship  was  formerly  celebrated  with 
much  solemnity  in  their  church,  consecrated  under  the 
invocation  of  "Our  Lady  of  the  Beach"  (Notre  Dame 
des  Greves) ;  and  the  mothers  of  the  worthy  fishermen 
who  j^ive  to  Polet  an  aspect  so  picturesque,  have  forgot- 
ten only  the  precise  date  of  the  adventure  we  arc  about 
to  relate. 

The  sacristan  of  Notre  Dame  des  Greves  dwelt  in  a 
little  cottag-e  quite  close  to  the  church.  He  was  an  exact 
and  pious  man  ;  he  had  the  keys  of  the  sacred  edifice  and 
the  care  of  the  bells.  Several  worthy  priests  were  at- 
tached to  the  lovely  church  ;  the  earliest  Masses  were 
never  rung  except  by  the  honest  sacristan.  Now,  one 
morning,  during  the  Christmas  holydays,  he  heard,  be- 
fore day,  the  tinkle  of  one  of  his  bells  announcing  a  Mass. 
He  rose  immediately  and  ran  to  the  window.  The  snow- 
covered  roofs  enabled  him  to  see  objects  so  distinctly 
that  he  thought  the  day  was  beginning  to  dawn.  He 
hastened  to  put  on  his  clothes  and  go  to  the  church. 
1  he  total  solitude  and  silence  reigning  all  around  him 
made  him  understand  that  he  was  mistaken  and  that  day 
was  not  yet  breaking.  He  tried  to  go  into  the  church, 
however,  but  the  door  was  closed. 

How,  then,  could  he  have  heard  the  bell  ?  If  robbers 
had  got  in,  they  would  certainly  have  taken  good  care 
not  to  touch  the  bell.  He  listens ;  not  the  slightest 
noise  in  the  holy  place.  Should  he  return  home  ?  Not 
so,  for  having  heard  the  bell,  he  must  go  in. 


3  mercy  of 

expiate,  to 

icjllowing 

1  inhabited 
imes,  more 
Christians, 
atecl  with 
under  the 
'tre   Dame 

fishermen 

ve  forgot- 

are  about 

ilwelt  in  a 
s  an  exact 
difiee  and 
were  at- 
sses  were 
Now,  one 
leard,  be- 
g  a  Mass. 
"he  snow- 
distinctly 
iwn.     He 

2  church. 
)und   him 

that  day 
e  church, 

f  robbers 

ood  care 

sh'ghtest 

le  ?     Not 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 


433 


He  opens  a  little  door  leading  into  the  sacristy;  he 
passes  througli  that,  and  advances  towards  the  choir. 

By  the  ligiit  of  llie  small  lamp  burning  before  the 
tabernacle  and  tliat  of  a  taper  already  lighted,  he  per- 
ceives, at  the  foot  of  the  aUar,  a  priest  robed  in  a  elias- 
uble,  and  in  the  attitude  of  a  celebrant  ai)out  to  com- 
mence Mass.  All  is  prei)ared  for  the  Holy  Sacrihce. 
He  stops  in  dismay.  The  priest,  a  stranger  to  him,  is 
extremely  pale;  his  hands  are  as  white  as  his  alb;  his 
eyes  shine  like  the  glow-worm,  the  liglit  going  forth,  as 
it  were,  from  the  very  centre  of  the  orbits. 

*'  Serve  my  Mass,"  he  said  gently  to  the  sacristan. 

The  latter  obeyed,  spell-bound  with  terror.  But  if  tiie 
pallor  of  the  priest  and  the  singular  fire  of  his  eves  fright- 
ened him,  his  voice,  on  the  contrary,  was  mild  and 
melancholy. 

The  Mass  goes  on.  At  the  elevation  of  the  wSacred 
Host  tlie  limbs  of  the  priest  tremble  and  give  forth  a 
sound  like  that  of  dry  reeds  shaken  by  the  wind.  At  the 
Doniinc,  non  sum  dig]ius,  his  breast,  which  he  strikes  three 
times,  sounds  like  the  coffm  when  the  first  shovel-full  of 
earth  is  cast  upon  it  by  the  grave-digger.  The  Precious 
Blood  produces  in  his  whole  body  the  effect  of  water 
which,  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  falls  drop  by  drop  from 
the  roof. 

When  he  turns  to  say  Ita  Missa  est,  the  priest  is  only  a 
skeleton,  and  that  skeleton  speaks  these  words  to  the 
server : 

"  Brother,  I  thank  thee !  .In  my  life-time,  I  was  a 
priest;  I  owed  this  Mass  at  my  death.  Thou  hast  helped 
me  to  discharge  my  debt ;  my  soul  is  freed  from  a  heavy 
burden." 

The  spectre  then  disappeared.  The  sacristan  saw  the 
vestments  fall  gently  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  and  the 
burning  taper  suddenly  went  out.  At  that  moment,  a 
cock  crowed  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood.  The 
sacristan  took  up  the  vestments,  and  passed  the  rest  of 
the  night  in  prayer. 


I: 

i 


: 


424 


rURGATORY. 


THE   EVE   OF   ST.    JOHN. 


SIR    WAI.l'ER   Si-iJlT. 


"  O  fi:ak  not  tlic  priest  who  slccpcth  to  the  cast !    ' 
For  to  Dryburgh  the  way  he  has  ta'cn  ; 

And  there  to  say  Mass,  till  tlirec  days  do  ])ass, 
For  the  soul  ol  a  Knight  that  is  slayne.  " 

He  turned  him  round,  and  grimly  he  frowned  ; 

Then  he  laughed  right  scornfully — 
"  lie  who  says  the  JNIass-rite  for  the  soul  of  that  Knight, 

May  as  well  say  Mass  for  me." 


* 


% 


* 


Then  changed,  I  trow,  was  that  bold  baron's  brow. 

From  dark  to  the  blood-red  high  ; 
"  Now  tell  me  the  mien  of  the  Knight  thou  hast  seen, 

For  by  Mary  he  shall  die." 


* 


* 


"  0  hear  but  my  word,  my  noble  lord, 

For  I  heard  her  name  his  name. 
And  that  lady  bright,  she  called  the  Knight 

Sir  Richard  of  Coldinghame." 

The  bold  baron's  brow  then  chang'd,  I  trow, 

From  high  blood-red  to  pale — 
"  The  grave  is  deep  and  dark— and  the  corpse  is  stiff  and 
stark — 

So  1  may  not  trust  thy  tale. 


* 


* 


"  The  varying  ligh^  deceived  thy  sight. 

And  the  wild  winds  drown'd  the  name. 
For  the  Dryburgh  bells  ring,  and  the  white  monks  do  sing, 


For  Sir  Richard  of  Coldinghame." 


i;.^.  J.'JU.  L— ■*!■  ^I'l 


;  cast !    ' 

iss, 

cd; 

that  Knigrht, 

i  brow, 
last  seen, 


^  is  stiff  and 


LECENDARY  AND   rOETlCAL. 
«  4V  «  « 


4:^5 


* 


It  was  near  the  rin<^inj^-  of  matin-bell, 

The  nii^ht  was  well-nii^h  done, 
When  the  lady  looked  throu.i^ii  the  ehaniber  lair, 

On  the  eve  of  good  St,  John. 

The  lady  looked  thron^j^h  the  ehamber  fair, 

iiy  the  li<^ht  of  a  dying  ilame  ; 
And  she  was  aware  of  a  knii^ht  stood  there — 

Sir  Richard  of  Coldinghame. 

****** 

"  By  Eildon-trcc  for  long-  nights  three. 

In  bloody  grave  have  I  lain, 
The  Mass  and  the  death-prayer  are  said  for  me. 

But,  lady,  they  are  said  in  vain. 

"  By  the  baron's  hand,  near  Tweed's  fair  stand, 

Most  foully  slain  I  fell ; 
And  my  restless  sprite  on  the  beacon's  height, 

For  a  space  is  doom'd  to  dwell." 


* 


* 


He  laid  his  left  palm  on  an  oaken  beam. 

His  right  upon  her  hand  ; 
The  lady  shrunk,  and  fainting  sunk, 

For  it  scorched  like  a  fiery  brand. 


iks  do  si 


sing, 


f. 


I, 


r 
i 


426 


rURGATORV. 


THE  REaUEST  OF  A  SOUL  IN  PURGATORY. 

[From  "  A  Collcrtion  of  Spiritii.il  Iljinns  ami  Son/^s  on  \';iri()iis  Ri- 
liiurious  SiihjcctH,"  pul)lisliccl  l)y  Chalmers  cS:  Co.,  of  Abi'rdccn,  Scotland,  in 
1S02.  Its  (jnaint  and  touching  simpliciiy,  redolent  of  old-time  faith,  will 
commend  it  to  the  reader.] 

From  lake  wlicrc  water  does  not  go, 
A  prisoner  of  hope  below, 
To  mortal  ones 
I  push  my  <;roans, 

In  hopes  they'll  pity  me. 

0  mortals  that  still  live  above, 

Your  faith,  hope,  prayers,  antl  alms,  and  love, 
Still  merit  plaee 
With  God's  sweet  p;race  ; 
O  faithful,  pity  me. 

My  ferv^ent  c^roans  don't  merit  here. 
Strict  justice  only  doth  ai)pear. 
My  smallest  faults. 
And  needless  talks 

Heap  chains  and  flames  on  me. 

Thouj^h  mortal  jij^uilt  doth  not  remain, 

1  still  am  due  the  temp'ral  pain, 
I  did  delay 

To  satisfy. 

Past  coldness  scorcheth  me. 

Tepidity  and  f]^ood  works  done 
With  imperfections  mixt,  here  come  ; 
All  these  neg-lccts 
And  least  defects. 

Great  anguish  bring  on  me. 


ATORY. 

on   V'niioiis   Rc- 

•«-•".    Sc()tl;ill(|,    ill 

"J-linic  laiili,  will 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETirAI-. 

Thoufrh  niv  defects  here  he  not  sj)arccl, 
Vet  endless  i^lorv  lor  me  's  pre[)ared, 
I  love  ill  llaiiR'S, 
And  hope  in  chains  ; 

O  IViends,  ther.,  pity  nic ! 

My  God,  my  Father,  is  most  dear, 
For  me  your  siir^hs  and  prayers  1  ie'U  hear; 
Thoui^h  just  laws  scourge, 
His  mercies  urii^e, 
That  you  would  i)ity  me. 


427 


md  love, 


Throup^h  pains  and  flames  Fll  come  to  ITim, 
They  })ur<^e  me  both  from  stain  and  sin  ; 
When  I'm  set  free, 
Their  friends  Fll  be 
Who  now  do  pity  me. 


The  smallest  thinj:^  that  could  dcfdc 
Keeps  me  from  bliss  in  this  exile. 
God  loves  to  sec 
That  vou  mc  free ; 

For  His  love  pity  me! 

For  mc  who  alms  ^ivc,  fast,  or  pray, 
Great  store  of  j^racc  will  come  their  way  ; 
By  this  <2;-ood  thoug'ht 
Great  help  is  brou<^ht, 
And  souls  from  sin  set  free. 


If  you  for  mc  now  do  not  pray, 
The  utmost  farthing  1  must  pay ; 
The  time  is  hid 
That  Fll  be  rid, 

Unless  you  pity  me. 


428  rURGATORY. 

In  mortal  sin  who  yields  his  breath, 
Pray  not  for  him  behind  his  death. 
AH  mortal  crime 
I  quit  in  time  ; 

O  faithful,  pity  me  ! 

For  me  good  works  may  be  practised, 
Thus  some  were  for  the  dead  baptized. 
Such  pains  endure 
For  me,  and  sure 
You'll  help  and  pity  me. 

For  his  good  friend,  as  Scriptures  say, 
Onesiphorus,  Paul  did  pray,' 
His  words,  you  see, 
Urge,  then,  for  me  ; 
And  thus  you'll  pity  me. 

This  third  place  clear  in  writ  you  spy, 
Where  all  your  works  the  fire  will  try, 
From  death  some  rose. 
Sure  then  all  those 

From  third  place  were  set  free. 

In  hell  there's  no  redemption  found  ; 
God  n?'er  degrades  whom  He  once  crowned- 
These  judgments  both 
Confirmed  by  oath 
And  absolute  decree. 

For  all  the  Saints  prayer  should  be  made, 
Who  stand  in  need,  alive  or  dead. 
I  stand  in  need 
That  you  with  speed 
Should  help  and  pity  me. 


'  II.  Tim.,  i.  i6,  i8. 


LEGENDARY  AND   TOETICAL. 


429 


ed. 


rowned- 


de, 


In  presence  of  our  sweetest  Lord, 
For  dead  they  prayed,  as  all  accord. 
Christ  did  not  blame 
What  I  now  claim  ; 

Oh !  haste  and  pity  me ! 

To  a  third  place  Christ's  soul  did  go, 
And  preached  to  spirits  there  below ; 
This  in  the  Creed 
And  Writ  you  read, 
That  you  may  pity  me. 

When  Christ  on  earth  would  stay  no  more, 
These  captives  freed  He  brought  to  glorc ; 
There  I  will  be. 
And  soon  set  free. 

If  you  would  pity  me. 

Mind,  then,  Communion  of  the  Saints  ; 
All  should  supply  each  other's  wants : 
In  pains  and  chains. 
And  scorching  flames, 
I  languish  ;  pity  me ! 

Eternal  rest,  eternal  glore, 
Eternal  light,  eternal  store, 
To  them  accord, 
O  sweetest  Lord ! 

There's  mercy  still  with  Thee ! 

Let  mercy  stay  Thy  just  revenge. 
Their  scorching  flames  to  glory  change  ; 
The  precious  flood 
Of  Thine  own  blood 

For  them  we  offer  Thee  ! 


430 


rURGArORY. 


■I 


I  1 

i  1 


:i     n 


ALL   SOULS. 


BY    MAKION     MtJIR. 


For  all  the  cold  and  silent  clay 

That  once,  alive  with  youth  and  hope, 
J^ushcd  proudly  to  the  western  slope— 
O  brothers,  pray  ! 

For  all  who  saw  the  orient  day 

Rise  on  the  plain,  the  camp,  the  flood. 
The  sudden  discord  drowned  in  blood- 
O  brothers,  pray ! 

For  all  the  lives  that  ebbed  away 
In  darkness  down  the  gulf  of  tears ; 
For  all  the  gray  departed  years — 
O  brothers,  pray ! 

For  all  the  souls  that  went  astray 
In  deserts  hung  with  double  gloom  ; 
For  all  the  dead  without  a  tomb — 
O  brothers,  pray  ! 

For  we  have  household  peace ;  but  they 
Who  led  the  way,  and  held  the  land. 
Are  homeless  as  the  heaving  sand — 
Oh !  let  us  pray ! 


iiiw^jiuaw 


),:  r 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 


431 


THE  DEAD. 

{From  the  French  of  Octa-ce  Crciuazic.) 

ANNA   T.    SADLIER. 

O  DEAD,  ye  sleep  within  your  tranquil  j^^raves ; 
No  more  ye  bear  the  burden  that  enslaves 

Us  in  this  world  of  ours. 
For  you  outshine  no  stars,  no  storms  rave  loud, 
No  buds  has  spring,  the  horizon  no  cloud, 

The  sun  marks  not  the  hours. 

The  while,  with  anxious  thought  oppress'd,  we  go, 
Each  weary  day  but  bringing  deeper  woe. 

Silently  and  alone 
Ye  list  the  sanctuary  chant  arise. 
That  downwards  first  to  you,  remounts  the  skies, 

Sweet  pity's  monotone. 

The  vain  delights  whereto  our  souls  incline, 
v\re  naught  beside  the  prayer  to  love  divine. 

Alms-giving  of  the  heart. 
Which  reaching  to  you  warms  your  chilly  dust 
And  brings  your  name  enshrined  a  sacred  trust. 

Swift  to  the  throne  of  God  ! 

Alas  !  love's  warmest  memory  will  fade 
Within  the  heart,  ere  yet  the  mourning  shade 

Has  ceased  to  mark  the  garb. 
Forgetfulncss,  our  meed  to  you,  outweighs 
The  leaded  coffin  as  it  dully  lays 

Upon  your  lifeless  bones. 

Our  selfish  hearts  but  to  the  present  look, 
And  see  in  you  the  pages  of  a  book 

Now  laid  aside  long  read. 
For  loving  in  our  fev'rish  joy  or  pain 
But  those  who  serve  our  hate,  pride,  love  of  gain, 

No  more  can  serve  the  dead. 


!i: 


J  i 


432 


PURGATORY. 


To  cold  ambition  or  to  joy's  sweet  store, 
Ye  dusty  corpses  minister  no  more, 

VVe  give  to  you  neglect. 
Nor  reck  we  of  that  suff'ring  world's  pale  bourne 
Where  you  beyond  the  bridgeless  barrier  mourn 

O'erpast  the  wall  of  death, 

'Tis  said  that  when  our  coldness  grieves  you  sore, 
Ye  quit  betimes  that  solitude's  cold  shore 

Where  ye  forsaken  dwell, 
And  flit  about  in  darkness'  sad  constraint, 
The  while  from  spectral  lips  your  mournful  plaint 

Upon  the  winds  outswell. 


¥: 


-V: 


* 


When  nightingales  their  woodland  nests  have  left. 
The  autumn  sky  of  gray,  white-capped,  cloud-reft, 
Prepares  the  shroud  which  Winter  soon  shall  spread 
On  frozen  fields ;  there  comes  a  day  thrice  blest. 
When  earth  forgetting,  all  our  musings  rest 
On  those  who  are  no  more  the  dreamless  dead. 

The  dead  their  graves  forsake  upon  this  day, 
As  we  have  seen  doves  mount  with  joyous  grace. 
Escape  an  instant  from  their  prison  drear, 
Their  coming  brings  us  no  repellent  fear. 
Their  mien  is  dreamy,  passing  sweet  their  face, 
Their  fixed  and  hollow  eyes  cannot  betray. 

When  spectral  coming  thus  unseen  they  gaze 

On  crowds  who,  kneeling  in  the  temple,  pray 

Forgiveness  for  them,  one  faint,  joyful  ray. 

As  light  upon  the  opal,  glittering  plays, 

On  faces  pale  and  calm  an  instant  rests. 

And  brings  a  moment's  warmth  to  clay-cold  breasts. 

They,  the  elect  of  God,  with  soids  of  saints. 
Who  bear  each  destined  load  without  complaints. 


LEGENDARY    AND    I'OETICAL 


433 


bourne 
iiourn 


)u  sore. 


plaint 


■X- 


ve  left, 
ud-reft, 
ill  spread 
plcst, 

ad. 


Tace, 


CO, 


. 


>reasts. 


ints, 


Who  walk  all  day  beneath  God's  watchinc^  eye, 
And  sleep  the  night  'neath  angels'  ministry, 
Ncr  made  the  sport  of  visions  that  arise 
To  show  th'  abyss  of  hre  to  dreaming  eyes. 

All  they  who  while  on  earth,  the  pure  of  heart. 
The  heav'nly  eehocs  hear,  and  who  in  part 
Make  smooth  for  man  rude  ways  he  has  to  tread. 
And  knowing  earthly  vanity,  outspread 
Their  virtue  like  a  carpet  rich  and  rare. 
And  walk  o'er  evil,  touching  it  nowhere. 

When  come  sad  guests  from  off  that  suff'ring  shore, 
Which  Dante  saw  in  dream  sublime  of  yore. 
Appearing  midst  us  here  that  day  most  blessed, 
'Tis  but  to  those ;  for  they  alone  have  guessed 
The  secrets  of  the  grave  ;  alone  they  understand 
The  pallid  mendicants,  who  ask  for  heav'n. 

Of  Israel's  King  the  psalms,  inspired  cries, 
With  Job's  sublime  distress,  commingled  rise  ; 
The  sanctuary  sobs  them  through  the  naves 
While  wak'ning  subtle  fear,  the  bell's  deep  toll 
With  fun'ral  sounds,  demanding  pity's  dole 
For  wand'ring  gliosts,  as  countless  as  the  waves. 

Give  on  this  day,  when  over  all  the  earth 

The  Church  to  God  makes  moan  for  parted  worth ; 

Your  own  remorse,  regret  at  least  to  calm 

Awak'ning  memory's  dying  flame,  give  balm, 

Flow'rs  for  their  graves,  and  prayer  for  each  loved  soul, 

Those  gifts  divine  can  yet  the  dead  console. 

Pray  for  your  friends,  and  for  your  mother  pray. 

Who  made  le.ss  drear  for  you  life's  desert  way, 

For  all  the  portions  of  your  heart  that  lie 

Shut  in  the  tomb,  alas,  each  youthful  tie 

Is  lo' t  within  the  coffin's  close  constraint, 

\Vhere,  prey  of  worms,  the  dead  send  up  their  plaint 


1 


434 


PURGATORY. 


For  exiles  far  from  home  and  native  land, 

Who  dying  hear  no  voice,  nor  touch  no  hand 

In  life  alone,  more  lonely  still  in  death. 

Witli  none  for  their  repose,  to  breathe  one  prayer, 

Cast  alms  of  tears  upon  an  alien  grave. 

Or  heed  the  stranger  lonely  even  there  ; 

For  those  v.- hose  wounded  souls  when  here  below, 
]jut  anxious  thought  and  bitter  fancies  know, 
With  days  all  joyless,  nights  of  dull  unrest ; 
For  those  who  in  nii^ht's  calm  find  all  so  blest 
And  meet,  in  place  of  hope  with  morning  beams, 
A  horrid  v/ak'ning  to  their  golden  dreams  ; 

For  all  the  pariahs  of  human  kind 

Who,  heavy  burdens  bearing,  find 

How  high  the  steeps  of  human  woe  they  scale. 

Oh,  let  your  heart  some  off 'ring  make  to  these, 

One  i)ious  thought,  one  holy  word  of  peace, 

Which  shall  twixt  them  and  God  swift  rend  the  veil. 

The  tribute  bring  of  prayers  and  holy  tears. 
That  when  your  hour  draws  nigh  of  nameless  fears, 
When  reached  their  term  shall  be  your  mimbered  days, 
Your  name  made  known  above  with  grateful  praise, 
By  those  whose  suff 'rings  it  was  yours  to  end, 
Arriving  there  find  welcome  as  a  friend  ! 

Your  loving  tribute,  white-winged  angels  take, 

Ere  bearing  it  unto  eternal  spheres. 

An  instant  lay  it  on  the  grass-grown  graves. 

While  dying  flow'rs  in  church-yards  raise  each  head 

To  life,  refreshed  by  breath  of  prayer,  awake 

And  shed  their  fragrance  on  the  sleeping  dead. 


I: 


[incl 

e  prayer, 


e  below, 
ow, 
t; 

jlest 
beams, 


scale. 

these, 

ce, 

nd  the  veil. 

rs, 

cless  fears, 
mbered  days, 
eful  praise, 
end, 


;  take, 

es, 

3  each  head 

ake 

dead. 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


435 


A  EEaUIEM. 


SIR    WALTER    SCOTT. 


No  sound  was  made,  no  word  was  spoke, 

Till  noble  Angus  silence  broke ; 

And  he  a  solemn  sacred  plight 

Did  to  St.  Bryde  of  Douglas  make, 

That  he  a  pilgi     iagc  would  take 

To  Melrose  Abbey,  for  the  sake 

Of  Michael's  restless  sprite. 
Then  eacli,  to  ease  his  troubled  breast. 
To  some  blessed  saint  his  prayers  addressed — 
Some  to  St.  Modan  made  their  vows, 
Some  to  St.  Mary  of  the  Lowes, 
Some  to  the  Holy  Rood  of  Lisle, 
Some  to  our  Lady  of  the  Isle  ; 
Each  did  his  patron  witness  make, 
That  he  such  pilgrimage  would  take, 
And  monks  should  sing,  and  bells  should  toll. 
All  for  the  weal  of  Michael's  soul, 
While  vows  were  ta'en,  and  prayers  were  prayed. 


% 


* 


* 


* 


Most  meet  it  were  to  mark  the  day 

Of  penitence  and  prayer  divine. 
When  pilgrim-chiefs,  in  sad  array. 

Sought  Melrose,  holy  shrine. 
With  naked  foot,  and  sackcloth  vest, 
And  arms  enfolded  on  his  breast, 

Did  every  pilgrim  go  ; 
The  standers-by  might  hear  uneath, 
Footstep,  or  voice,  or  high-drawn  breath. 

Through  all  the  lengthened  row  : 
No  lordly  look,  no  martial  stride. 
Gone  was  their  glory,  sunk  their  pride, 


4j6  PURGATORY. 

Forgotten  their  renown  ; 
Silent  and  slow,  like  ghosts,  they  glide, 
To  the  high  altar's  hallowed  side. 

And  there  they  kneeled  them  down ; 
Above  the  suppliant  chieftains  wave 
The  banners  of  departed  brave  ; 
Beneath  the  lettered  stones  were  laid 
The  ashes  of  their  fathers  dead  ; 
From  many  a  garnished  niche  around. 
Stern  saint  and  tortured  martyr  frowned, 
And  slow  up  the  dim  aisle  afar. 
With  sable  cowl  and  scapular, 
And  snow-white  stoles,  in  order  due, 
The  holy  Fathers,  two  and  two, 

In  long  procession  came  ; 
Taper,  and  host,  and  book  they  bare. 
And  holy  banner,  flourished  fair 

With  the  Redeemer's  name  ; 
Above  the  prostrate  pilgrim  band 
The  mitred  Abbot  stretched  his  hand, 

And  blessed  them  as  they  kneeled  ; 
With  holy  cross  he  signed  them  all, 
*     And  prayed  they  might  be  sage  in  hall, 

And  fortunate  in  field. 

The  Mass  was  sung,  and  prayers  were  said. 
And  solemn  requiem  for  the  dead  ; 
And  bells  tolled  out  their  mighty  peal, 
For  the  departed  spirit's  weal ; 
And  ever  in  the  office  close 
The  hymn  of  intercession  rose ; 
And  far  the  echoing  aisles  prolong 
The  awful  burthen  of  the  song — 

Dies  Ircu,  Dies  Ilia, 

Salve t  ScBchiin  in  Favilla  ; 
While  the  pealing  organ  rung, 
Thus  the  holy  father  sung : 


.—1::^ 


LFXENDARY   AND   TOETICAL. 


437 


:d, 


HYMN   FOR  THE   DEAD. 

The  day  of  wrath,  that  dreadful  day, 
When  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away, 
What  power  sluiU  be  the  sinner's  stay? 
How  shall  he  meet  that  dreadful  day  ? 
When,  shri\'elling  like  a  parched  scroll, 
The  flaming  heavens  toi^ether  roll ; 
While  louder  yet,  and  yet  more  dread. 
Swells  the  high  trump  that  wakes  the  dead  ; 
O  !  on  that  day,  that  wrathful  day. 
When  man  to  judf^ment  wakes  from  clay, 
13c  Thou  the  tremblinj^  sinner's  stay, 
Though  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away. 


THE  PENANCE  OF  ROBERT  THE  DEVIL. 


said. 


COLLIN   DE   TLANCY, 


In  Normandy,  the  most  sinister  associations  still  re- 
main connected  with  the  name  of  Robert  the  Devil.  By 
the  people^  who  change  historical  details,  but  yet  pre- 
serve the  moral  thereof,  it  is  believed  that  Robert  is  un- 
dergoing his  penance  here  below,  on  the  theatre  of  his 
crimes,  and  that,  after  a  thousand  years,  it  is  not  yet 
ended.  Messrs.  Taylor  and  Charles  Nodier  have  men- 
tioned this  tradition  in  their  "  Voyage  Pittorcsque  de  VAn- 
ciainc  France "  ("  Picturesque  Journey  through  Old 
France  "). 

"■  On  the  left  shore  of  the  Seine,"  say  they,  "  not  far  from 
Moulineaux,  are  seen  the  colossal  ruins,  which  are  said 
to  be  the  remains  of  the  castle,  or  fortress,  of  Robert  the 
Devil.  Vague  recollections,  a  ballad,  some  shepherd's 
tales — these  arc  all  the  chronicles  of  those  imposing 
ruins.  Nevertheless,  the  fame  of  Robert  the  Devil's 
doings  still  survives  in  the  country  which  he  inhabited. 
His  very  name  still  excites  that  sentiment  of  fear  which 
ordinarily  results  only  from  recent  impressions. 


« 


•^ 


43S 


rURC.ATORY. 


**  In  the  vicinity  of  the  castle  of  Robert  the  Devil  every 
one  knows  his  misdeeds,  his  violent  conquests,  and  the 
rii^^or  of  his  penance.  The  cries  of  his  victims  still  re- 
echo throuL^h  the  vaults,  and  come  to  terrify  himself  in 
his  nocturnal  wanderin<;s,  for  Robert  is  condemned  to 
visit  the  ruins  and  the  dungeons  of  his  castle. 

"  Sometimes,  if  the  old  traditions  of  the  countr}'  are  to 
be  believed,  I'lobert  has  been  seen,  still  clad  in  the  loose 
tunic  of  a  hermit,  as  on  the  day  of  his  burial,  wanderin<^ 
in  the  neighborhood  of  his  castle,  and  visiting,  barefoot 
and  bareheaded,  tlic  little  corner  of  the  plain  where  the 
cemeter}'  must  have  been.  Sometimes,  a  shepherd  stray- 
ing through  the  adjoining  copse  in  search  of  his  flock, 
scattered  by  an  evening  storm,  has  been  frightened  by 
the  fearful  aspect  of  the  phantom,  seen  by  the  glare  of 
the  lightning,  flitting  about  amongst  the  graves.  He  has 
heard  him,  in  the  pauses  of  the  tempest,  imploring  the 
pity  of  their  mute  inhabitants ;  and  on  the  morrow  he 
shunned  the  place  in  horror,  because  the  earth,  freshly 
turned  up,  had  opened  on  every  side  to  terrify  the  mur- 
derer." 

But  there  is  another  tradition  which  we  cannot  omit. 

A  band  of  those  Northmen  who,  during  the  troubled 
reign  of  Charles  III.  of  France — without  any  sufficient 
reason  called  Charles  the  Simple — had  invaded  that  part 
of  Neustria  where  Robert  the  Devil  was  born  ;  a  group 
of  these  fierce  warriors  were  one  evening  warming  them- 
selves around  a  fire  of  brambles,  and,  joyous  in  a  country 
more  genial  than  their  own,  they  sang,  to  a  wild  melody, 
the  great  deeds  of  their  princes,  when  they  saw,  leaning 
against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  an  old  man  poorly  clad,  and 
of  a  sad,  yet  resigned  aspect.  They  called  to  him  as  he 
passed  along  before  the  fortress  of  Robert  the  Devil, 
then  only  half  ruined. 

"  Good  man,"  said  they,  *'  sing  us  some  song  of  this 
country." 

The  old  man,  advancing  slowly,  chanted  in  an  humble 
yet  manly  voice,  the  beautiful  prose  of  St.  Stephen.     It 


i.E(ii:M)AKY  ANU  ror/ricAL. 


439 


c  Devil  every 
ests,  and  the 
:tims  still  re- 
ify him  self  in 
ondemncd  to 
e. 
oiintry  arc  to 

1  in  the  loose 
\\,  wandering 
fini^,  barefoot 
in  where  the 
:phcrd  stray- 

of  his  flock, 
rightcncd  by 

the  i^darc  of 
vcs.  He  has 
nploring-  the 

2  morrow  he 
:arth,  freshly 
ify  the  mur- 

:annot  omit, 
he  troubled 
ny  sufficient 
ed  that  part 
rn  ;  a  group 
rming  them- 
in  a  country 
'ild  melody, 
saw,  leaning 
ly  clad,  and 

3  him  as  he 
;  the  Devil, 


ong  of  this 


an  humble 
tcphen.     It 


told  how  the  first  of  (he  martyrs  paid  homage  till  the 
end  to  jcsus  Christ,  Our  Lord  ;  antl  how,  expiring  under 
their  blows,  he  besought  Heaven  to  lorgive  his  imii- 
derers. 

Hut  this  hymn  displeased  the  rude  band,  who  l)egan 
brutally  to  insult  the  old  man.  The  latter  fell  on  one 
knee  and  uttered  no  complaint. 

At  this  moment  appeared  a  young  man,  before  whom 
all  the  soldiers  rose  to  their  feet.  His  lofty  mien  and  his 
tone  of  authority  indicated  the  son  oi'  ^  mighty  lord. 

"  Vou  who  insult  a  defenceless  old  man,''  said  he, 
"your  conduct  is  base  and  covrardly.  Away  witli  you  ! 
those  who  insult  women  or  old  men  are  unworthy  to 
march  with  the  brave.  For  you,  good  old  mim,  come 
and  share  my  meal.  It  is  for  the  chief  to  repair  the 
wrong-doings  of  those  he  commands." 

"  ^'oung  man,"  said  the  stranger,  "  what  you  have  just 
done  is  pleasing  to  God,  who  loveth  justice ;  but  it  con- 
cerneth  not  me,  who  can  bear  no  ill-will  to  any  one." 

He  then  told  his  name  ;  related  the  hideous  story  of  his 
crimes,  tlien  his  conversion  through  the  prayers  of  his 
mother,  and  his  ])enance,  which  was  to  last  yet  a  long 
time.  He  showed  how  the  grace  of  faith  and  of  repent- 
ance had  entered  into  his  heart. 

"  Exhausted  with  emotion,"  said  he,  "  I  sat  down  on  a 
stone  amid  some  ruins;  1  slept.  Oh!  blessed  be  my 
good  angel  for  having  sent  me  that  sleep  !  Scarcely  liad 
1  closed  mine  eves  when  1  had  a  vision.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  mountain  on  which  rises  the  Castle  of  JNIou- 
linets  darted  up  to  heaven  and  formed  a  staircase.  Up 
the  steps  went  slowly  a  crowd  of  phantoms,  in  which 
I,  alas !  recognized  my  crimes.  There  were  women 
and  young  maidens,  whose  death  was  my  doing,  hard- 
working vassals  dishonored,  old  men  driven  from  their 
dwellings,  and  forced  to  ask  tlie  bread  of  charity.  I  saw 
thus  ascending  not  only  men,  but  things,  houses  burned, 
crops  destroyed,  flocks,  the  ho])e  and  the  care  of  a  whole 
life  of  toil,  sacrificed  at  a  moment  in  some  wild  revel. 


^1 


I 


. 


fr*" 


440 


PURGATORY. 


And  1  saw  an  an;i^cl  risini^  rai)i(ll3'.     Then  did  my  limbs 
(juivcr  like  the  leaves  ol  the  aspen.     1  said  to  that  aseend- 


inir  anjie 


"  '  Whither  s^n)est  thou?  '     He  answered  :  *  1  brinn^  thy 
crimes  before  the  Lord,  that  they  may  bear  testimony 


aiLains 


ttl 


lee. 


**  Then  all  my  members  became  as  it  were  burninjjj 
p^rass.  '  0  gofxl  ani^el!'  I  cried,  'could  1  not  at  least 
eirace  some  of  these  imajj^es?*  lie  replied  :  '  All,  if  thou 
wilt.'  'And  how?'  'Confess  them;  the  breath  of  thy 
avowal  will  disperse  them.  Weep  them  in  penance,  and 
thy  tears  will  efface  even  the  traces  thereof.'  " 

The  old  man  then  told  how  he  had  made  his  confes- 
sion, and  what  penance  he  did,  wanderinp^  about  in  rau^s, 
without  other  food  than  that  which  he  shared  with  the 
doi:^s. 

"  I  had  known,"  he  added,  "  all  the  pleasures  of  the 
earth,  and  had  known  some  of  its  joys.  But  I  found 
them  still  more  in  the  miseries,  the  life-Ion^  fatigue,  the 
hard  humiliations  of  penance,  because  they  were  expi- 
ating my  faults.  Thus,  then,  O  strangers,  whatever  fate 
Heaven  may  decree  for  you,  if  you  desire  happiness,  find 
Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  practice  His  justice." 

The  old  man  was  silent ;  the  barbarians  remained  mo- 
tionless. He,  however,  taking  the  young  chief  by  tiie 
hand,  led  him  to  the  esplanade  of  the  castle,  and  showing 
him  all  that  vast  country  which  is  watered  by  the  Seine  : 
"  Young  man,"  said  he,  '*  for  as  much  as  thou  hast  pro- 
tected a  poor  old  man,  God  will  reward  the  noble  heart 
within  thee.  Thou  secst  these  lands  so  rich — they  were 
once  mine  ;  and  even  now,  after  God,  they  have  no  other 
lawful  owner.  I  give  them  to  thee ;  make  faith  and 
equity  reign  there.     I  will  rejoice  in  thy  reign." 

Now  this  chief,  to  whom  the  penitent  Robert  thus  be- 
queathed his  faith  and  his  inheritance,  was  Rollo,  first 
Duke  of  the  Normans. 


(lid  my  limbs 
<)  tliat  asccnd- 

:  *  1  br'uv^  tliy 
:ar  testimony 

were  biirnininc 
not  at  least 
'  All,  if  thou 

breatii  of  tliy 
penance,  and 

Ic  his  confcs- 
ibout  in  ra_L,^s, 
ired  with  the 

isurcs  of  the 
But  I  found 
r  fatigue,  the 
y  were  expi- 
vhatcver  fate 
ij^piness,  find 
tice." 

L^mained  mo- 
chief  by  tlie 
and  showini^ 
y  the  Seine  : 
)u  hast  pro- 
noble  heart 
—they  Avxre 
ive  no  other 
faith  and 
n." 

ert  thus  bc- 
Rollo,  first 


I.r.C.KNDARY    AM)    I'OKTICAI,. 


ALL   SOULS'   EVE. 

^\  IIFRK  the  tombstones  f^n-ay  and  browned, 
And  the  broken  roods  around, 
And  the  vesj)ers'  solemn  sound, 

Told  an  old  church  near; 
I  vSat  mc  in  the  eve, 
And  I  let  my  fancy  weave 
Such  a  vision  as  I  leave 

With  a  frail  pen  here. 

Mcthought  I  heard  a  trai! 
IJke  to  sl<)wly-fallin<j^  hail 
And  the  sadly-plaintive  wa'! 

Of  a  misty  file  of  ^ouls, 
As  they  glided  o'er  the  gras!-, 


441 


Si<rhin<jf  low 


Alas ' 


alas. 


How  the  laggard  mon-YuS  pass 
In  purgatorial  doles  !  " 

Through  their  garments*  glancin.;'  sliccp, 
As  if  nothing  were  betwr>;n, 
Pierced  the  moon's  benignant  beam 

To  a  grove  of  stunted  [»incs: 
In  whose  distant  lightsome  shade, 
With  their  gilded  coats  arrayed, 
Danced  a  fiiiry  cavalcade, 

To  a  fairy  poet's  rliymes. 

Then  a  cloud  obscured  tac  moon, 
And  the  fairy  danc:^  avid  rune 
Faded  down  bchtid  the  gloom 

W  aich  along  the  upland  fell, 
And  my  cars  could  only  hear, 
In  the  church-yard  lone  and  drear,  * 
The  tinkle  soft  and  clear 

Of  the  morninir  Mass's  bell. 


T' 


442  PURGATORY. 

It  eddied  through  the  air, 
And  it  seemed  to  eali  to  prayer 
All  tlie  waiting  spirits  there 

Which  the  moon's  beams  showed, 
But  each  tinkle  sank  to  die 
In  a  heart-distressing  sigh, 
And  no  worshippers  drew  nigh 

With  the  penitential  word. 

Mute  as  statue,  on  each  knoll 
Stood  a  thin,  transparent  soul, 
While  the  fresh  breeze  stole 

From  its  long  night's  rest, 
Till  it  bore  upon  its  tongue, 
Like  a  snatch  of  sacred  song. 
All  the  peopled  gr'^  ves  among, 

//i'  Jlissa  est ! 

Then  a  cry,  as  Angels  raise 

In  an  ecstasy  of  praise. 

When  the  Godhead's  glowing  rays 

To  their  eager  sight  is  given. 
Shook  the  consecrated  ground, 
A.nd  the  souis  it  lost  were  found 
From  their  venial  sins  unbound. 

In  the  happy  fields  of  heaven  ! 

Where  the  tombstones  gray  and  browned. 
And  the  broken  roods  around, 
And  the  vespers'  solemn  sound, 

Told  an  old  church  near ; 
I  sat  me  in  the  eve. 
And  I  let  my  fancy  weave 
Such  a  vision  as  I  leave 

With  a  frail  pen  here. 


1     ! 


LEGENDARY   AND   rOETICAL. 


443 


wed, 


cd, 


ELEVENTH     MONTH,    NOVEMBER 

THE     HOLY     SOULS. 


COMMEMORATION    OF    ALL    SOULS. 


HARRIET    M.     SKIDMOKK, 


O  Faithful  Church  !  O  tender  mother-heart, 

That,  'neath  the  shelter  of  thy  deathless  love, 

Shieldest  the  blood-bought  charge  thy  Master  gave; 

Laving  the  calm,  iinfurrowed  infant  brow 

With  the  pure  wealth  of  Heaven's  cleansing  stream  ; 

Breathing  above  the  sinner's  grief-bowed  head 

The  mystic  words  that  loose  the  demon-spell, 

And  bid  the  leprous  soul  be  clean  again ; 

Decking  the  u]-per  chamber  of  the  heart 

For  the  blest  banquet  of  the  Lord  of  love ; 

Binding  upon  the  youthful  warrior's  breast 

The  buckler  bright,  the  sacred  shield  of  strength, 

The  fair,  celestial  gift  of  Pentecost, 

Borne  on  the  pinions  of  the  holy  Dove ! 

vVnd  when,  at  last,  life's  sunset  hour  is  near. 

And  the  worn  pilgrim-leet  stand  trembling  on 

The  shadowy  borders  of  the  death-dark  vale, 

At  thy  command  the  priestly  hand  bestows 

The  potent  unction  in  the  saving  Name, 

And  gives  unto  the  parched  and  pallid  lip 

The  blest  Viaticum,  tlu-  Bread  of  Life, 

As  staff  and  stay  for  tha.'  drear  pilgrimage  ! 

Thy  prayers  ascend,  wit'i  magic  incense-breath. 

From  the  lone  couch,  where,  fainting  by  the  way, 

The  frail  companion  of  the  deathless  soul 

Parteth  in  pain  from  its  immortal  guest. 

And  when,  at  last,  the  golden  chain  is  loosed, 
And  through  the  shadows  of  that  mystic  vale 
The  ransomed  captive  floatcth  swiftly  forth. 


frrf 


tt  \ 


I     I 


!   ) 


444 


rURGATORY. 


In  solemn  tones  thy  Dc  rrofuudis  rings 

O'er  all  the  realms  of  vast  eternity ; 

Thy  tender  litanies  eall  gently  clown 

The  angel-guides,  the  white-robed  band  of  Saints, 

To  lead  the  wanderer  to  "the  great  White  Throne," 

To  plead,  with  Heaven's  own  pitying  tenderness, 

For  life  and  mercy  at  the  judgment-seat. 

The  account  is  given,  the  saving  sentence  breathed, 

Yet  He  who  said  that  nought  by  sin  defiled 

Can  take  at  once  its  blessed  place  amid 

The  spotless  legion  of  His  shining  Saints, 

Will  find,  upon  the  white  baptismal  robe. 

Full  many  a  blemish  ;  stains  too  lightly  held, 

Half-cleansed  by  an  imperfect  sorrow's  flood. 

"  The  Christian  shall  be  saved,  yet  as  by  fire  ; " 

So,  to  the  pain-fraught,  purifying  flame 

The  robe  is  given,  till  every  blighting  spot 

Hath  faded  from  its  primal  purity  ; 

Still,  faithful  Church,  thy  blest  Communion  binds 

Each  suffering  child  unto  thy  mother's  heart. 

Full  well  thou  know'st  the  wondrous  power  of  prayer- 

That  'tis  a  holy  and  a  wholesome  thought 

To  plead  for  those  who  in  the  drear  abode 

Of  penance  linger,  **  that  they  may  be  loosed 

From  all  their  sins ;  "  that  on  each  spotless  brow 

Love's  shining  hand  may  place  the  starry  crown. 

And  so  the  holy  Sacrifice  ascends, 

A  sweet  oblation  for  that  wailing  band. 

Thy  regal  form  in  mourning  hues  is  draped. 

Thy  pleading  Miserere  ceaseth  not 

Till,  at  its  blest  entreaty,  Love  descends, 

As  erst,  from  His  rent  tomb,  to  Limbo's  realm, 

And  leads  again  the  freed,  exultant  throng. 

Within  the  gleaming  gates  of  gold  and  pearl. 

To  bask  in  fadeless  splendor,  where  the  flow 

Of  the  "■  still  waters  "  by  the  "  pastures  green" 

Faints  not,  nor  slackens,  through  the  endless  years. 

O  Ciiristians,  brethren  by  that  holv  tic 


ftsmmmm"''^ 


LEGENDARY   AND   TOETICAL 


445 


Saints, 
Throne," 
erness, 

wreathed, 
I 


^1, 
d. 

c;" 


binds 
t. 
of  praycr- 


1 

)row 

own. 


That  links  the  living  with  the  ransomed  dead  ! 
Children  of  one  foud  mother  are  ye  .ill, 
V/hite-robed  in  heaven,  militant  on  earth. 
And  sufferers  'mid  the  purifying  flame. 
O  ye  who  tread  the  highway  of  our  world, 
Join  now  your  voices  -.v  ith  that  mother's  sigh  ! 
And  while  the  mournful  autumn  wind  laments, 
And  sad  November's  ceaseless  tear-drops  fall 
Upon  "  the  Silent  City's  "  marble  roofs, 
O'er  lonely  graves  amid  the  pathless  wild. 
Or  where  the  wayworn  pilgrim  sank  to  rest 
In  some  lone  cavern  by  the  crested  sea — 
List  to  the  pleading  wail  that  e'er  ascends 
From  the  dark  land  of  suffering  and  woe : 
*'  Our  footsteps  trod  your  fair,  sun-lighted  paths, 
Our  voices  mingled  in  your  joyous  songs. 
Our  tears  were  blended  in  one  common  grief; 
Perchance  our  erring  hearts'  excessive  love 
For  you,  the  v/orshipped  idols  of  our  lives, 
Hath  been  the  blemish  on  our  bridal  robes. 
Plead  for  us,  then,  and  let  your  potent  prayer 
Unlock  the  golden  gates,  that  we  who  beat 
Our  eager  wings  against  these  prison  bars, 
May  wing  our  flight  to  endless  liberty  !  " 


m, 


years. 


446 


PURGATORY. 


THE  MEMORY  OF  THE  DEAD. 

FATHER   FABER. 

[This  poem  scared)'  comes  within  the  scope  of  the  present  work,  yet  it 
is,  by  its  nature,  so  closely  connected  therewith,  and  is,  i^ioreover,  so  ex- 
quisitely tender  and  pathetic,  so  beautiful  in  its  mournful  simplicity,  that  1 
decided  on  giving  it  a  place  amongst  these  funereal  fragments.] 

On  !  it  is  sweet  to  think 

Of  those  that  are  departed, 
While  murmured  Aves  sink 

To  silence  tender-hearted — 
While  tears  that  have  no  pain 

Are  tranquilly  distilling, 
And  the  dead  live  again 

In  hearts  that  love  is  filling. 

Yet  not  as  in  the  days 

Of  earthly  ties  we  love  them ; 
For  they  are  touched  with  rays 

From  light  that  is  above  them  ; 
Another  sweetness  shines 

Around  their  well-known  features  ; 
God  with  His  glory  signs 

His  dearly-ransomed  creatures. 

Yes,  they  are  more  our  own, 

Since  now  they  are  God's  only  ; 
And  each  one  that  has  gone 

Has  left  one  heart  less  lonely. 
He  mourns  not  seasons  fled, 

Who  now  in  Him  possesses 
Treasures  of  many  dead 

In  their  dear  Lord's  caresses. 


Dear  dead  !  they  have  become 
Like  guardian  angels  to  us ; 


^scnt  work,  yet  it 
i^iorcover,  so  ex- 
simplicity,  that  I 
2nts.] 


res ; 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 

And  distant  Heaven  like  home, 
Through  them  begins  to  woo  us  ; 

Love  that  was  earthly,  wings 
Its  flight  to  hoHer  places  ; 

The  dead  are  sacred  things 
That  multiply  our  graces. 

They  whom  we  loved  on  earth 

Attract  us  now  to  Heaven  ; 
Who  shared  our  grief  and  mirth 

Back  to  us  now  are  given. 
They  move  with  noiseless  foot 

Gravely  and  sweetly  round  us, 
And  their  soft  touch  hath  cut 

Full  many  a  chain  that  bound  us. 

O  dearest  dead  !  to  Heaven 

With  grudging  sighs  we  gave  you  ; 
To  Him — be  doubts  forgiven! 

Who  took  you  there  to  save  you  : — 
Now  get  us  grace  to  love 

Your  memories  yet  more  kindly, 
Pine  for  our  homes  above 

And  trust  to  God  more  blindly. 


447 


448 


PURGATORY. 


«■  : 


THE  HOLY  SOULS. 

WRITTEN     FOR     MUSIC     liY     THE    AUTHOR     OF   "CHRISTIAN     SCHOOLS    AND 

SCHOI.ARS." 

O  jMary,  help  of  sorrowing  hearts, 

Look  down  with  pitying  eye 
Where  souls  the  spouses  of  thy  Son, 

In  fiery  torments  lie; 
Far  from  the  presence  of  their  Lord 

The  purging  debt  they  pay. 
In  prisons  through  whose  gloomy  shades 

There  shines  no  cheering  ray. 

The  fire  of  love  is  in  their  hearts, 

Its  flame  burns  fierce  and  keen  ; 
They  languish  for  His  Blessed  Face, 

For  one  brief  moment  seen  ; 
Prisoners  of  hope,  their  joy  is  there 

To  wait  His  Holy  Will, 
And,  patient  in  tlie  cleansing  flames, 

Their  penance  to  fulfil. 

But  dark  the  gloom  where  smile  of  thine, 

Sweet  l>Iother,  may  not  fall. 
Oh,  hear  us,  w^hen  for  these  dear  souls 

Thy  loving  aid  we  call ! 
Thou  art  the  star  whose  gentle  beam 

Sheds  joy  upon  the  night. 
Oh,  let  its  shining  pierce  their  gloom 

And  give  them  peace  and  light. 

The  sprinkling  of  the  Precious  Blood 

From  thy  dear  hand  must  come, 
Quench  with  its  drops  their  cruel  flames, 

And  call  them  to  their  home ; 
Freed  from  their  pains,  and  safe  with  thee, 

In  Jesu's  presence  blest, 
Oh,  may  the  dead  in  Christ  receive 

Eternal  light  and  rest ! 


SCHOOLS    AND 


hades 


thine, 

Ills 


111 


111 


)d 

ames, 
:h  thee, 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


449 


THE    PALMERS   ROSARY. 


EMZ.V   AIJ.r.N    SIAUK. 


No  coral  beads  on  costly  chain  of  c^old 
The  I\almcr's  pious  lips  at  Vespers  told ; 
No  guards  of  art  could  F'ilgrim's  favor  win, 
Who  only  craved  release  from  earth  and  sin. 
He  from  the  Holy  Land  his  rosary  brought ; 
From  sacred  olive  wood  each  bead  was  wrought, 
Whose  grain  was  nurtured,  ages  long  ago, 
By  blood  the  Saviour  sweated  in  His  woe ; 
Then  on  the  Holy  Sepulchre  was  laid 
This  crown  of  /oscs  from  His  passion  made; 
The  Sepulchre  from  which  the  Lord  of  all 
Arose  from  death's  dark  bed  and  icy  thrall. 

Yet  not  complete  that  wreath  of  joy  and  pain, 
Which  for  the  dead  must  sweet  indulgence  gain  ; 
The  pendant  cross,  on  which  with  guileless  art, 
wSome  hand  had  graved  what  touches  every  heart, 
The  image  of  the  Lamb  for  sinners  slain, 
From  Bethlehem's  crib,  now  shrine,  his  prayers  obtain  ; 
And  tears  and  kisses  tell  the  holy  tale  .  ,  • 
Of  pilgrim  love  and  penitential  wail. 

The  love,  the  tears,  which  fed  his  pious  flame, 

May  well  be  thine,  my  heart,  in  very  same ; 

Since  bead  and  cross,  by  Palmer  prized  so  well, 

At  vesper-hour,  these  fingers  softly  tell, 

And  press,  through  them,  each  dear  and  sacred  spot 

Where  God  once  walked,  "  yet  men  received  Him  not." 

And  still,  with  pious  Palmer  gray,  of  yore. 

Thy  lips  can  kiss  the  ground  He  wet  with  gore, 

Still  at  the  Sepulchre  with  her  delay, 

Who  found  Him  risen  ere  the  break  of  day  ; 


-...  ,.-..^.1  .^.y^ 


PURGATORY. 


And  hover  round  the  crib  with  meek  dehght 
Where  shepherds  hasted  from  their  flocks  by  night, 
To  there  adore  Him  whom  a  Virgin  blessed, 
Bore  in  her  arms  and  nourished  at  her  breast. 

My  Rosary  dear!  my  Bethlehem  Cross  so  fair  ! 
No  rose,  no  lily  can  with  thee  compare ; 
No  gems,  no  gold,  no  art,  or  quaint  device 
Could  be  my  precious  Rosary's  priceless  price  ; 
For  Heaven's  eternal  joys  at  holier  speed, 
I  trust  to  win  through  every  sacred  bead  ; 
And  still  for  suffering  souls  obtain  release 
From  cleansing  hres  to  everlasting  peace. 


A   LYKE   WAKE   DIRGE. 


[From  Sir  Walter  Scott's  "  Minstrelsy  of  the  Border,"  we  take  this  frag- 
ment. The  dirge  to  \vhicli  the  eminent  author  aliiules  in  a  before-quoted 
extract  from  his  woric,  and  which  he  erroneously  styles  "a  charm,"  is  here 
given  in  full.  The  reader  will  observe  that  it  partakes  not  the  least  of  the 
nature  of  a  charm.  It  would  seem  to  have  some  analogy  with  the  "  Keen," 
or  Wail  of  the  Irish  peasantry.] 

This  ae  nighte,  this  ae  nighte, 

Ever}^  nighte  and  alle  ; 
Fire  and  sleet,  and  candle  lighte, 

And  Christe  receive  thye  saule. 

When  thou  from  hence  away  are  paste. 

Every  nighte  and  alle  ; 
To  Whinny-muir  thou  comest  at  laste ; 

And  Christe  receive  thye  saule. 

If  ever  thou  gavcst  hoscn  and  shoon  ; 

Every  nighte  and  alle ; 
Sit  thee  down  and  put  them  on ; 

And  Christe  receive  thye  saule. 


LEGENDARY  AND   POETICAL. 

If  hosen  and  shoon  thou  ne'er  gavcst  nanc, 

Every  nij^litc  and  alle, 
The  whinnes  shall  pricke  thee  to  the  bare  bane ; 

And  Ciiriste  receive  th}'e  saule. 

From  Whinny-muir,  when  tiiou  niaycst  passe, 

Every  nighte  and  alle; 
To  Brig  o'  Dread  thou  comcst  at  lastc  ; 

And  Christe  receive  thye  saule. 

From  Brii^  o'  Dread  when  thou  mayest  passe, 

Every  nighte  and  alle  ; 
To  Purgatory  fire  thou  comest  at  laste ; 

And  Christe  receive  thye  saule. 

If  ever  thou  gavest  meat  or  drink, 

Every  nighte  and  alle. 
The  fire  shall  never  make  thee  shrinkc ; 

And  Christe  receive  thye  saule. 

If  meat  or  drink  thou  never  gavest  nane, 

Every  nighte  and  alle  ; 
The  fire  will  burn  thee  to  the  bare  bane  ; 

And  Christe  receive  thye  saule. 

This  ac  nighte,  this  ae  nighte, 

Every  nighte  and  alle  ; 
Fire  and  sleet,  and  candle  lighte. 

And  Christe  receive  th}^  saule. 


451 


452 


rURGATORV. 


ALL  SOULS'  DAY. 

SECOND  VESPERS  OF  ALL  SAINTS. 

From  "  Lyra  Lituryjca" 

What  means  this  veil  of  g'loom 

Drawn  o'er  the  festive  scene  ; 

Tlie  solemn  records  of  ihe  tomb 

Where  holy  mirth  hath  been: 

As  if  some  messeni^er  of  death  should  fling 

His  talc  of  woe  athwart  some  nuptial  gathering? 

Our  homage  hath  been  given 

With  gladsome  voice  to  them 
Who  fought,  and  won,  and  wear  in  heaven 
Christ's  robe  and  diadem ; 
Now  to  the  suffering  Church  we  must  descend, 
Our  "  prisoners  of  hope  "  with  succor  to  befriend. 

They  will  not  strive  nor  cry, 

Nor  make  their  pleading  known ; 
Meekly  and  patiently  they  lie, 
Speaking  with  God  alone ; 
And  this  the  burden  of  their  voiceless  song, 
Wafted  from  age  to  age,  "  I  lov/  long,  O  Lord,  how  long  ?  " 

O  blessed  cleansing  pain ! 

Who  would  not  bear  thy  load, 
Where  every  throb  expels  a  stain, 
And  draws  us  nearer  God  ? 
Faith's  firm  assurance  makes  all  anguish  light. 
With  earth  behind,  and  heaven  fast  opening  on  the  sight. 

Yet  souls  that  nearest  come 

To  their  predestin'd  gain, 
Pant  more  and  more  to  reach  their  home : 

Delay  is  keenest  pain 


s. 


LEGENDARY   AM)    rOKTICAI.. 


cring? 


icavcn 

cend, 
:  friend. 


'd,  how  long? 


or  on  the  slight. 


lonie: 


453 


To  tliose  that  all  but  touch  tlie  wish'd  lor  shore, 
Where  sin,  and  griel'  that  conies  ot"  sin,  shall  Iret  no  more. 

And  O— ()  charity, 

For  sweet  remembrance  sake, 
These  souls,  to  God  so  very  nii;h, 
into  your  keeping  take! 
Sjieed  them  by  sacrifice  and  suflVage,  where 
They  burn  to  pour  lor  you  a  more  prevailing  prayer. 

They  were  our  friends  ercwhile, 

Co-heirs  of  saving  grace  ; 
Co-partners  of  our  daily  toil, 
Companions  in  our  race ; 
We  took  sweet  counsel  in  the  house  of  God, 
And  sought  a  common  rest  along  a  common  road. 

And  had  their  brethren  car'd 

To  keep  them  just  and  pure, 
Perchance  their  pitying  God  had  spar'd 
The  pains  they  now  endure. 
What  if  to  fault  of  ours  those  pains  be  due, 
To  ill  example  shown,  or  lack  of  counsel  true? 

Alas,  there  are  who  weep 

In  fierce,  unending  flame, 
Through  sin  of  those  on  earth  that  sleep, 
Reirardless  of  their  shame  ; 
Or  who,  though  they  repent,  too  sadly  know 
No  help  of  theirs  can  cure  or  soothe  their  victim's  woe. 

Thanks  to  our  God  who  gives, 

In  fruitful  Mass  or  prayer, 
To  many  a  friend  that  dies,  yet  lives, 
A  salutary  share  ; 
Nor  stints  our  love,  though  cords  of  sense  be  riven. 
Nor  bans  from  hope  the  soul  that  is  not  ripe  for  heaven. 


454 


rURGATOUY. 


Feast  of  the  Holy  Dead  ! 
Gi'eat  Jubilee  olj^race! 
When  ani^el  f^uanis  exiiitini;-  lead 
To  their  predestinM  plaee 
Souls,  that  the  Church  shall  loose  from  bonds  to-day 
In  every  clime  that  basks  beneath  her  genial  sway. 


THE  SUF5'ERING  SOULS. 

liv  r..  M.  V.  iu'i.(;kk. 
It  is  a  lioly  and  wholesome  tliouglit  to  pray  for  the  dead. — II  Mac.  xii.  46. 

In  some  quiet  hour  at  the  close  of  day, 
When  your  work  is  fmished  and  laid  away, 
Think  of  the  suffering-  souls,  and  pray. 

Think  of  that  prison  of  anguish  and  pain, 
Where  even  the  souls  of  the  Saints  remain, 
Till  cleansed  by  fire  from  the  slightest  stain. 

Think  of  the  souls  who  were  dear  to  yon 
When  this  life  held  them  ;  still  be  true, 
And  pray  for  them  now  ;  it  is  all  you  can  do. 

Think  of  the  souls  who  arc  lonely  there, 
With  no  one,  perchance,  to  offer  a  prayer 
That  God  may  have  pity  on  them  and  spare. 

Think  of  the  souls  that  have  longest  lain 
In  that  place  of  exile  and  of  pain, 
Suffering  still  for  some  uncleansed  stain. 

Think  of  the  souls  who,  perchance,  may  be 
On  the  very  threshold  of  liberty — 
One  "  Ave  Maria  "  may  set  them  free  ! 


»d.— II  Mac.  xii.  46. 


LEGENDARY   ANH   POiynCAI,. 

Oil,  tlicMi,  at  the  close  of  each  passiiiLi:  (lav, 
When  your  work  is  tinisliecl  aiul  loUled  away, 
Tliiiik  of  the  siilTeriii^  souls,  and  pray  I 

Tiiink  of  their  prison,  so  dark  and  dim. 
Think  of  their  loni^iui^  to  he  wilii  llini 
Whose  praises  are  suni;  by  tiie  cherid)iin  ! 


>!  ■*  ^ 


As  you  tell  the  beads  of  your  Rosary, 

Ask  Ciod's  s\ve:.>t  Mother  their  mother  to  be  ; 

Her  immaculate  liands  hold  Heaven's  key. 

Oh,  how  many  souls  arc  sufierin*;'  when 
Vou  whis|)er  "  Hail  Mary"  a,<j;-ain  and  a<j^ain. 
May  sec  God's  face  as  you  say  ".]///<■;/  /  " 

— Ave  Maria,  November  24,  1883. 


I  fl 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  DEAD. 

'TWAS  the  hour  after  sunset. 

And  the  <i^olden  lii^ht  had  ])aled; 
The  heavy  foliage  of  the  woods 

Were  all  in  sliadow  veiled. 

Vet  a  witchery  breathed  throui^h  the  soft  twilight, 

A  thoui^ht  of  the  sun  that  was  set, 
And  a  soft  and  mystic  radiance 

Through  the  heavens  hung  lingering  yet. 

The  purple  hills  stood  clear  and  dark 

Against  the  western  sky, 
And  the  wind  came  sweeping  o'er  the  grass 

With  a  wild  and  mournful  cry  : 

It  swept  among  the  grass  that  grows 

Above  the  quiet  grave, 
And  stirred  the  boughs  of  the  linden-trees 

That  o'er  the  church-yard  wave. 


PURGATORY. 


And  the  low  murmur  of  the  leaves 

All  softly  seemed  to  say, 
"  It  is  a  '^ood  and  wholesome  thought 

For  the  dead  in  Christ  to  pray." 

Earth's  voices  all  are  low  and  dim  ; 

But  a  human  heart  is  there, 
With  psalms  and  words  of  holy  Church, 

To  join  in  Nature's  prayer. 

A  Monk  is  pacing  up  and  down ; 

His  prayers  like  incense  rise  ; 
Ever  a  sweet,  sad  charm  for  him 

Within  that  church-yard  lies. 

Each  morning  when  from  iNIary's  tower 

The  sweet-toned  yivf  rings, 
This  herdsman  of  the  holy  dead 

A  Mass  of  Requiem  sings. 

And  when  upon  tlie  earth  there  falls 

The  hush  of  eventide, 
A  dirge  he  murmurs  o'er  the  graves 

Where  they  slumber  side  by  side. 

**  Eternal  light  shine  o'er  them,  Lord  ! 

And  may  they  rest  in  peace  !  "  * 
His  matins  all  are  tinished  now, 

And  his  whispered  accents  cease. 

But,  hark  !  what  sound  is  that  which  breaks 

The  stillness  of  the  hour  ? 
Is  it  the  ivy  as  it  creeps 

Against  the  gray  church  tower? 

Is  it  the  sound  of  the  wandering  breeze, 

Or  the  rustling  of  the  grass. 
Or  the  stooping  vv'ing  of  the  evening  birds 

As  home  to  their  nests  they  pass  ? 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 


457 


ch, 


^er 


i 


breaks 


ezc, 
birds 


No ;  'tis  a  voice  like  one  in  dreams, 

Half  solemn  and  half  sad, 
Freed  from  the  weariness  of  earth, 

Not  yet  with  glory  clad  ; 

Full  of  the  yearning  tenderness 
Which  nought  but  suffering  gives ; 

Too  sad  for  angcl-toncs — too  full 
Of  rest  for  aught  that  lives. 

They  are  the  Voices  of  the  Dead 

From  the  graves  that  lie  around, 
And  the  Monk's  heart  swells  within  his  breast, 

As  he  listens  to  the  sound. 

"  Amen  !  Amen!  "  the  answer  comes 

Unto  his  muttered  prayer ; 
*'  Amen  !  "  as  though  the  brethren  all 

In  choir  were  standing  there. 

The  living  and  departed  ones 

On  earth  are  joined  again, 
And  the  bar  that  shuts  them  from  his  ken 

For  a  moment  parts  in  twain. 

Over  the  gulf  that  yawns  beneath. 

Their  echoed  thanks  he  hears 
For  the  Masses  he  has  offered  up, 

For  his  orisons  and  tears. 

And  as  the  strange  responsory 

Mounts  from  the  church-yard  sod, 

Their  mingled  prayers  and  answers  rise 
Unto  the  throne  of  God.' 

—M.  R.,  in  ''The  Lamp,''  Oct.  31,  1863. 

'  There  is  a  story  recorded  of  St.  Rirstan,  Bishop  of  Wincliestcr,  who 
died  about  the  year  of  Chiist  944,  how  ho  was  wont  every  day  to  say  Mass 
and  Matins  for  tlic  dead  ;  and  one  eveninc:,  as  he  walked  in  the  church- 
yard, recitinq;  liis  said  Matins,  when  lie  came  lo  the  Rcqiticscnt  in  Pace,  the 
voices  in  the  ^r-ives  round  about  him  made  answer  aloud,  and  said,"  Amen, 
Amen  !  " — fiom  the  "  Eu^iiih  Mar/yivlo^y''  for  October  i2. 


458 


PURGATORY. 


m   >' 


THE  CONVENT  CEMETERY. 


Ri:V.   A13RAM    J.   RYAN. 

[I'liis    is   an  extract  fioiu   Father   Ryan's  poem, "  Their   Slor\'  Runneth 
Thus."] 

And  years  and  years,  and  weary  years  passed  on 
Into  the  past ;  one  autumn  afternoon, 
When  flowers  were  in  their  aj^ony  of  death. 
And  winds  sang  "  ZV  Profundis  "  o'er  them, 
And  skies  were  sad  with  shadows,  he  did  walk 
Where,  in  a  resting-plaee  as  calm  as  sweet. 
The  dead  were  lying  down  ;  the  autumn  sun 
Was  half-way  down  the  west — the  hour  was  three, 
The  holiest  hour  of  all  the  twenty-four, 
For  Jesus  leaned  His  head  on  it,  and  died, 
lie  walked  alone  amid  the  Virgins'  graves. 
Where  calm  they  slept — a  convent  stood  near  by, 
And  from  the  solitary  cells  of  nuns 
Unto  the  cells  of  death  the  way  was  short. 

Low,  simple  stones  and  white  watched  o'er  each  grave, 

While  in  the  hollows  'twixt  them  sweet  flowers  grew, 

Entwining  grave  with  grave.     He  read  the  names 

luigraven  on  the  stones,  and  "  Rest  in  peace  " 

Was  written  'ncath  them  all,  and  o'er  each  name 

A  cross  was  graven  on  the  lowly  stone. 

He  jDassed  each  grave  with  reverential  awe, 

As  if  he  passed  an  altar,  where  the  Host 

Had  left  a  memory  of  its  sacrifice. 

And  o'er  the  buried  virgin's  virgin  dust 

He  walked  as  prayerfidlv  as  though  he  trod 

The  holy  floor  of  fair  Lorctto's  shrine. 

He  passed  from  grave  to  grave,  and  read  the  names 

Of  those  whose  own  pure  lips  had  changed  the  names 

By  which  this  world  iiad  known  them  into  names 

Of  sacrihce  known  only  to  their  God  ; 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


Slorv  Runneth 


on 


ik 


three, 


ir  by, 


■ach  i^^rave, 
crs  grew, 
names 

a  me 


|c  names 
he  names 
lames 


459 


Veiling  their  faces  they  had  veiled  their  names. 

The  very  ones  who  played  with  them  as  girls, 

Had  they  passed  there,  would  know  no  more  than  he. 

Or  any  stranger,  where  their  playmates  slept. 

And  then  he  wondered  all  about  their  lives,  their  liearLs, 

Their  thoughts,  their  feelings,  and  their  dreams. 

Their  joys  and  sorrows,  and  their  smiles  and  tears. 

He  wondered  at  the  stories  that  were  hid 

Forever  down  within  those  simple  graves. 


ONE  HOUE  AFTER  DEATH. 

EMZA  ALLEN    SI  ARK. 

Oh  !  I  could  envy  thee  thy  solemn  slee]), 
Thy  sealed  lid,  thy  rosary-folding  palm, 

Thy  brow,  scarce  cold,  whose  wasted  outlines  keep 
The  '■'■  Bona  Mots'"  sublime,  unfathomcd  calm. 

I  sigh  to  wear  myself  that  burial  robe 

Anointed  hands  have  blessed  with  pious  care : 

What  nuptial  garb  on  all  this  mortal  globe 

Could  with  thy  habit's  peaceful  brown  compare.'* 

Beneath  its  hallowed  folds  thy  iccblc  dust 
Shall  rest  serenely  through  the  night  of  time  ; 

Unharmed  by  worm,  or  damp,  or  century's  rust. 
But,  fresh  as  youth,  shall  greet  th'  eternal  prime 

Of  that  clear  morn,  before  whose  faintest  ray 
Earth's  bliss  will  pale,  a  taper's  flickering  gleam ; 

I  see  it  break  !  the  pure,  celestial  day, 
And  stars  of  mortal  hope  already  dim. 

^^  In  pace,"  Lord,  oh!  let  her  sweetly  rest 
In  Paradise,  this  very  day  with  Thee: 

Her  faithful  lips  her  dying  Lord  confessed, 
Then  let  her  soul  Thy  risen  glory  see! 


460 


rURGATORY. 


A  PRAYER  FOR  THE  DEAD. 


T.   D.   McGt;!':. 


IK'I 


(I 


Let  us  pray  for  the  dead  ! 
For  sister  and  mother, 
Father  and  brother, 
For  clansman  and  fosterer. 
And  all  who  have  loved  us  here  ; 
For  pastors,  for  neighbors, 
At  rest  from  their  labors  ; 
Let  us  pray  for  our  own  beloved  dead  ! 
That  their  souls  may  be  swiftly  sped 
Through  the  valley  of  purgatorial  fire, 
To  a  heavenly  home  by  the  gate  called  Desire ! 


I  see  them  cleave  the  awful  air, 

Their  dun  wings  fringed  with  flame ; 

They  hear,  they  hear  our  helping  prayer, 
They  call  on  Jesu's  name. 

Let  us  pray  for  the  dead  ! 

For  our  foes  who  have  died, 

May  they  be  justified! 

For  the  stranger  whose  eyes 

Closed  on  cold  alien  skies  ; 

For  the  sailors  who  perished 

By  the  frail  ai  ts  they  cherished  ; 
Let  us  pray  for  the  unknown  dead. 


Father  in  heaven,  to  Thee  we  turn, 
Transfer  tlieir  debt  to  us ; 

Oh  !  bid  their  souls  no  longer  burn 
In  mediate  anguish  thus. 


L 

ire, 

led  Desire! 


lie ; 
ayer, 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL.  46 1 

Let  US  pray  for  the  soldiers, 

On  w  hatever  side  slain  ; 

Whose  white  bones  on  the  plain 

Lay  iniclaimed  and  unfathered, 

By  the  vortex-wind  feathered, 
Let  us  pray  for  the  valiant  dead. 

Oh  !  pity  the  soldier, 

Kind  Father  in  heaven, 
Whose  body  doth  moulder 

Where  his  soul  fled  self-shriven. 

We  have  prayed  for  the  dead  ; 

All  the  faithful  departed, 

Who  to  Christ  were  true-hearted  ; 

And  our  prayers  shall  be  heard, 

For  so  promised  the  Lord  ; 

And  their  spirits  shall  go 

Forth  from  limbo-like  woe — 
And  joyfully  swift  the  justified  dead 
Shall  feel  their  unbound  pinions  sped, 
Through  the  valley  of  purgatorial  fire. 
To  their  heavenly  home  by  the  gate  called  Desire. 

By  the  gate  called  Desire 

In  clouds  they've  ascended — 
O  Saints,  pray  for  us. 

Now  your  sorrows  are  ended! 


462 


PURGATORY. 


THE  DE  PROFUNDIS  BELL.' 


IIARRIIiT   M.   SKIDMORK. 


I'     'V 


The  day  was  dead  ;  from  purple  summits  faded 

Its  last  resplendent  ray, 
And  softly  slept  the  wearied  earth,  o'crshaded 

By  twilight's  dreamy  gray ; 
Then  flowed  deep  sound-waves  o'er  silence  holy 

Of  nature's  calm  repose, 
As  from  its  lofty  dome,  outpealing  slowly 

Through  the  still  gloaming,  rose 
The  deep  and  dirge-like  swell 
Of  Dc  Profiindis  bell. 

To  heedful  hearts  each  solemn  cadence  falling 

Through  twilight's  misty  veil. 
An  echo  seemed  of  spirit-voices  calling 

With  sad,  beseeching  wail; 
And  thus  outspakc  the  mournful  intonation  : 

"  Plead  for  us,  brethren,  plead  !  " 
From  the  drear  depths  of  woe  and  desolation 

Our  cry  of  bitter  need 

Floats  upward  in  the  swell 
Of  Dc  Profundis  bell. 

'  Among  the  many  beautiful  and  pious  customs  of  Catholic  countries, 
none  appeals  with  more  tender  earnestness  to  the  pityini^  licart  than  that 
of  tlie  De  Profundis  bell.  While  the  shades  of  night  are  gathering  o\-er  the 
earth,  a  solemn,  dirge  like  tolling  resounds  from  ihe  lotty  church  *o\vers. 
Instantly  every  knee  is  bent,  and  countless  voices,  in  city  and  hamlet,  from 
castle  and  cottage,  repeat,  vv'ith  heartfelt  earnestness,  tlie  beautiful  psalm, 
'Dc  Profundis"  or,  "  Out  of  the  depths,"  clc,  for  tlie  souls  of  the  faith*"):) 
departed.  Thus  is  illustrated,  in  a  most  touching  manner,  the  blr"-scd 
doctrine  of  the  Communion  of  Saints.  Thus  does  the  Cluirch  Militant 
clasp,  each  day  anew,  the  holy  tie  which  binds  her  to  the  sufTering  Church 
of  Purgation. 

The  compassionate  heart  of  the  Christian  is  stirred  to  its  inmost  depths 
by  the  plaintive  call  of  that  warning  bell ;  and  as,  in  the  holy  hush  of  night- 
fall, he  obeys  its  tender  appeal,  how  fully  does  he  realize  that  "  it  is  a  holy 
and  wholesome  thought  to  pray  for  the  dead," 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


4<53 


dcd 

)d 

loly 


Then  bowed  each  knee,  the  plaintive  summons  heeding, 

And  rose  the  blended  sigli. 
As  incense-breath  of  iond,  united  pleading' 

E'en  to  the  throne  on  high  : 
"Hear,  Lord,  the  cry  of  fervent  su])pHcati()n 

Earth's  children  lift  to  Thee  ; 
And  from  the  depths  of  long  and  dread  purgation 

Thy  faithful  captives  free, 

Ere  dies  on  earth  the  swell 
Oi  Dc  Profundis  bell. 


g 


alic  countries, 
cart  tlian  that 

ling  over  the 
hurch  *o\vcrs. 
\  hanilc't,  from 
auliful  psalm, 
of  the  faith'"':) 
r,  tlie  blp'-scd 

urch  Militant 
Icring  Church 

inmost  depths 
hush  of  night- 
t  "  it  is  a  holy 


*'  If,  in  Thy  sight,  scarce  e'en  the  perfect  whiteness 

Of  seraph-robe  is  pure, 
Shall  mortals  brave  Thine  eye's  eternal  brightness? 

Shall  man  its  search  endure  ? 
Ah !  trusting  hope  may  meet  the  dazzling  splendor 

Of  those  celestial  rays, 
For  with  Thee,  Lord,  is  pardon  sweet  and  tender. 

When  contrite  sorrow  prays. 
Ay,  Thou  wilt  lead,  from  desert-waste  of  sadness, 

Thine  Israel's  chosen  band  ; 
And  Miriam's  song  of  pure,  triumphant  gladness 

Shall,  in  Thy  promised  land, 
Succeed  the  dirge-like  swell 
OiDc  ProfundisheiXr 


■MriM 


i       i 


! 

j 

{ 

\ 

1 1 

j- 

i 
1 

\ 

\ 

'( 

1 

464 


PURGATORY. 


NOVEMBER. 

ANNA    T.     SAIJI.IKK. 

Robed  in  mourninij^,  nave  and  chancel, 

In  the  livery  of  the  dead, 
Hymns  funereal  are  chanted. 

Services  sublime  are  read. 

Sounds  the  solemn  Dies  Inc, 

Fraught  with  echoes  from  the  day 

When  the  majesty  of  Heaven 
Shall  appear  in  dread  array. 

Next  the  Gospel's  weird  recital, 
Full  of  mystery  and  dread  ; 

Holdinr^  message  for  the  living, 
Bringing  tidings  of  the  dead. 

With  its  resurrection  promised — 

Resurrection  unto  life, 
With  its  full  and  true  fruition, 

And  immunity  from  strife. 

Blest  immunity  from  sorrow, 
Primal  man's  unhappy  dower ; 

While  the  evil  shall  find  judgment 
In  the  resurrection  hour. 

To  the  Lord,  the  King  of  Glory, 
Goes  the  voiceless,  tuneless  prayer. 

From  the  deep  pit  to  deliver. 
From  eternal  pains  to  spare. 

All  who  wait  the  holy  coming. 

Wait  the  dawning  of  a  day 
That  shall  ope  the  gates  of  darkness. 

Shall  illume  the  watcher's  way. 


LEGENDARY    AND    TOETICAL. 


465 


May  the  holy  Michael  lead  them 
To  tlie  fullness  of  the  li<^ht 

That  of  old,  in  prophet  visions, 
Burst  on  Adam's  dazzled  si<;ht. 


May  they  pass  from  death  to  living — 
Message  that  the  Master's  voice 

Gave  to  Abraham  the  faithful, 
Bade  his  exiled  soul  rejoice. 

May  perpetual  light  descending 

Touch  their  foreheads,  dark  with  fear 

Dark  with  deadly  torments  suffered ; 
Sign  them  with  the  glory  near ! 

May  they  rest,  ()  Lord,  forever 
In  a  peace  that,  unexpressed, 

Shall  bestow  upon  the  pilgrims 
Dual  crowns  of  light  and  rest ! 

Death's  weird  canticle  is  ringing 

In  its  supplication  strong — 
In  its  far  cry  to  the  heavens. 

Couched  in  wild,  unearthly  song. 

Ay,  this  Libera  o'ercomes  us, 
Requiem,  at  once,  and  dirge — 

Makes  this  life  with  life  immortal 
In  our  consciousness  to  merge. 


466 


rURGATORY. 


FOR  THE  SOULS  IN  PURGATORY. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Vk  souls  of  tlic  faithful  wlio  sleep  in  the  Lord, 
But  as  yet  cue  shut  out  froiu  your  final  reward, 
Oh!  would  I  could  lend  you  assistance  to  fly 
From  your  prison  below  to  your  palace  on  high  ! 

O  Father  of  Mercies  !  Thine  anger  withhold, 
These  works  of  Thy  hand  in  Thy  mercy  behold  ; 
Too  oft  from  Thy  path  they  have  wandered  aside, 
But  Thee,  their  Creator,  they  never  denied. 

O  tender  Redeemer,  their  misery  see. 
Deliver  the  souls  that  were  ransomed  by  Thee ; 
Behold  how  they  love  Thee,  despite  all  their  pain; 
Restore  them,  restore  them  to  favor  again ! 

O  Spirit  of  Grace!     O  Consoler  divine  ! 

See  how  for  Thy  presence  they  longingly  pine ; 

Ah  !  then,  to  enliven  their  sadness  descend, 

And  fill  them  with  peace  and  with  joy  in  the  end ! 

O  Mother  of  Mercy !  dear  soother  in  grief! 
Send  thou  to  their  torments  a  balmy  relief; 
Oh  !  temper  the  rigor  of  justice  severe, 
And  soften  their  flames  with  a  pitying  tear. 

Ye  Patrons,  who  watched  o'er  their  safety  below. 
Oh  !  think  how  they  need  your  fidelity  now ; 
And  stir  all  the  Angels  and  Saints  in  the  sky 
To  plead  for  the  souls  that  upon  you  rely  ! 

Ye  friends,  who  once  sharing  their  pleasure  and  pain, 
Now  hap'ly  already  in  Paradise  reign. 
Oh !  comfort  their  hearts  with  a  whisper  of  love. 
And  call  them  to  share  in  your  pleasures  above  ! 


I.KGENDARV   AND    POKTICAL. 


467 


O  Fountain  of  Goodness!  accept  of  our  si^fhs  ; 
Let  Tliy  mercy  bestow  what  Thy  justice  denies; 
So  may  Thy  poor  captives,  released  from  their  woes, 
Thy  praises  i)rochiini,  while  eternity  Hows! 

All  ye  udio  would  honor  the  Saints  and  their  Head, 
Remember,  remember  to  pray  for  the  dead — 
And  they,  in  return,  from  their  misery  freed, 
To  you  will  be  friends  in  tlie  lunir  of  your  need  I 

— Garland  of  Floivcrs. 


;low, 


ALL  SOULS'  EVE. 

'TwAS  All  Souls'  \l\Q\  the  liirhts  in  Notre  Dame 

Blazed  round  the  altar;  i^^loomy,  in  the  midst. 

The  pall,  with  all  its  sable  han^inu^s,  stood  ; 

With  torch  and  taper,  priests  were  rammed  around, 

Chantiui^  the  solemn  requiem  of  the  dead  ; 

And  then  along  the  aisles  the  distant  lii^hts 

Moved  slowly,  two  by  two;  the  chapels  shone 

Lit  as  they  pass'd  in  momentary  u^larc  ; 

Behind  the  fretted  choir  the  yellow  ray, 

On  cither  hand  the  altar,  blazini^  fell. 

She  thought  upon  the  multitude  of  souls 

Dwelling  so  near  and  yet  so  separate. 

With  dawn  she  sought  Saint  Jacques ;  the  altars  there 

Had  each  its  })ricst ;  the  black  and  solemn  Mass, 

The  nodding  feathers  of  the  catafalque. 

The  flaring  torches,  and  the  funeral  chant. 

And  intercessions  for  the  countless  souls 

In  Purgatory  still.     With  pity  new 

The  Pilgrim  pray'd  for  the  departed.     Long 

She  knelt  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament, 

Beside  Our  Lady's  altar.     Pictured  there. 

She  saw,  imprisoned  in  the  forked  flame.;, 

The  suffering  eouIs  who  ask  the  alms  of  prayer  ; 


*\^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


1.0 


I.I 


US 


II 

lis 


2.5 
2.2 


1^  IIIIIM 


1.8 


1.25 

U      1.6 

■« 6"     

1* 

M< 


V] 


^ 


>>j 


w 


'^^^ 


/A 


'/ 


PhotDgr4)hic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  M580 

(716)  872-4503 


t/j 


% 


^^ 


o^ 


% 


.^jA'iiiuiiJm.iiJiM 


I 


468  PURGATORY. 

Her  taper  small  an  aged  peasant  lit, 
To  burn  before  Our  Lady,  that  her  voice, 
Mother  of  mercy  as  she  is,  might  plead 
For  one  who  left  her  still  on  earth  to  pray. 

Sable  veils 

Soon  hid  the  altars ;  all  things  spoke  of  death, 
And  realms  where  those  who  leave  the  upper  air 
Wait  till  the  stains  of  sin  are  cleansed,  and  pant 
Amid  the  thirsty  flames  for  Paradise.^ 

*  These  verses  are  taken  from  an  anonymous  metrical  work  called  "The 
Pilgrim,"  published  in  England  in  1867. 


ml' 

k 


i 


I       f 


{, 


i! 


LEGENDARY   AND   TOETICAL. 


469 


ath, 
per  air 
'.  pant 


;  called  "The 


OUR  NEIGHBOR. 

ELIZA    ALI.EN    STARR. 

Set  it  down  gently  at  the  altar  rail, 

The  faithful,  aged  dust,  with  honors  meet ; 

Long  have  we  seen  that  pious  face,  so  pale, 
Bowed  meekly  at  her  Saviour's  blessed  feet. 

These  many  years  her  heart  was  hidden  where 
Nor  moth,  nor  rust,  nor  craft  of  man  could  harm ; 

The  blue  eyes,  seldom  lifted,  save  in  prayer, 

Beamed  with  her  wished-for  heaven's  celestial  calm. 

As  innocent  as  childhood's  was  the  face. 

Though  sorrow  oft  had  touched  that  tender  heart ; 

Each  trouble  came  as  winged  by  special  grace. 
And  resignation  saved  the  wound  from  smart. 

On  bead  and  crucifix  her  finger  kept. 

Until  the  last,  their  fond,  accustomed  hold  ; 

"  My  Jesus,"  breathed  the  lips ;  the  raised  eyes  slept, 
The  placid  brow,  the  gentle  hand  grew  cold. 

The  choicely  ripening  cluster,  ling'ring  late 

Into  October  on  its  shrivelled  vine. 
Wins  mellow  juices,  which  in  patience  wait 

Upon  those  long,  long  days  of  deep  sunshine. 

Then  set  it  gently  at  the  altar  rail. 

The  faithful,  aged  dust,  with  honors  meet ; 

How  can  we  hope,  if  such  as  she  can  fail 
Before  th'  Eternal  God's  high  judgment-seat  ? 


470 


PURGATORY. 


OLD  BELLS. 


Ring  out  mcrrilv^ 


Loudly,  chccril}^, 
Blithe  old  bells  from  the  steeple  tower. 

Hopefully,  fearfully, 

Joyfully,  tearfully, 
Moveth  the  bride  from  her  maiden  bower. 
Cloud  there  is  none  in  the  bright  summer  sky, 
Sunshine  flings  benison  down  from  on  high  ; 
Children  sing  loud  as  the  train  moves  along, 
"  Happy  the  bride  that  the  sun  shineth  on." 

Knell  out  drearily, 

Measured  out  wearily, 
Sad  old  bells  from  the  steeple  gray. 

Priests  chanting  slowly, 

Solemnly,  slowly, 
Passeth  the  corpse  from  the  portal  to-day. 
Drops  from  the  leaden  clouds  heavily  fall, 
Drippingly  over  the  plume  and  the  pall ; 
Murmur  old  folk,  as  the  train  moves  along, 
**  Happy  the  dead  that  the  rain  raineth  on." 

Toll  at  the  hour  of  prime, 

Matin  and  vesper  chime. 
Loved  old  bells  from  the  steeple  high  ; 

Rolling,  like  holy  waves, 

Over  the  lowly  graves, 
Floating  up,  prayer-fraught,  into  the  sky. 
Solemn  the  lesson  your  lightest  notes  teach, 
Stern  is  the  preaching  your  iron  tongues  preach ; 
Ringing  in  life  from  the  bud  to  the  bloom  ; 
Ringing  the  dead  to  their  rest  in  the  tomb. 

Peal  out  evermore  — 
Peal  as  ye  pealed  of  yore, 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 


471 


r. 
r  sk}^ 

1." 


Brave  old  bells,  on  each  holy  day. 

In  sunshine  and  gladness, 

Through  clouds  and  through  sadness, 
Bridal  and  burial  have  both  passed  away. 
Tell  us  life's  pleasures  with  death  arc  still  rife; 
Tell  us  that  death  ever  leadeth  to  life ; 
Life  is  our  labor  and  death  is  our  rest, 
If  happy  the  living,  the  dead  are  the  blest. 

— Popular  Poetry. 


0  HOLY  CHURCH! 


HARRIET  M.  SKIDMORE. 


O  HOLY  Church !  thy  mother-heart 
Still  clasps  the  child  of  grace  ; 

And  nought  its  links  of  love  can  part. 
Or  rend  its  fond  embrace. 


>» 


reach ; 


Thy  potent  prayer  and  sacred  rite 
Embalm  the  precious  clay. 

That  waits  the  resurrection-light — 
The  fadeless  Easter  day. 

And  loving  hearts,  by  faith  entwined, 
True  to  that  faith  shall  be, 

And  keep  the  sister-soul  enshrined 
In  tender  memory  ; 

Shall  bid  the  ceaseless  prayer  ascend, 
To  win  her  guerdon  blest ; 

The  radiant  day  that  hath  no  end, 
The  calm,  eternal  rest. 


m^tmm^m^en^rf^Bi 


472 


PURGATORY. 


AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  BATTLE  OF  BANNOCKBTJRN. 


SIR  WALTKR    SCOTT. 


Again  lie  faced  the  battle-field— 

Wildly,  they  fly,  are  slain,  or  yield. 

**  Now  then,''  he  said,  and  couch'd  his  spear, 

*'  My  course  is  run,  the  goal  is  near ; 

One  effort  more,  one  brave  career, 

Must  close  this  race  of  mine." 
Then,  in  his  stirrups  rising  high, 
He  shouted  loud  his  battle-cry, 

"  St.  James  for  Argentine !  " 


* 


¥: 


^• 


* 


^ 


■» 


^ 


Now  toil'd  the  Bruce,  the  battle  done. 
To  use  his  conquest  boldly  won : 
And  gave  command  for  horse  and  spear 
To  press  the  Southern's  scatter'd  rear. 
Nor  let  his  broken  force  combine, 
When  the  war-cry  of  Argentine 

Fell  faintly  on  his  ear  ! 
"  Save,  save  his  life,"  he  cried.     "  O  save 
The  kind,  the  noble,  and  the  brave !  " 
The  squadrons  round  free  passage  gave. 

The  wounded  knight  drew  near. 
He  raised  his  red-cross  shield  no  more, 
Helm,  cuish,  and  breast-plate  stream'd  with  gore. 
Yet,  as  he  saw  the  King  advance, 
He  strove  even  then  to  couch  his  lance — 

The  effort  was  in  vain  ! 
The  spur-stroke  fail'd  to  rouse  the  horse  ; 
Wounded  and  weary,  in  'mid  course 

He  tumbled  on  the  plain. 
Then  foremost  was  the  generous  Bruce 
To  raise  his  head,  his  helm  to  loose : — 


i 


fOCKBURN. 


spear, 


■» 


LEGENDARY  AND    POETICAL.  473 

"  Lord  Earl,  the  day  is  thine ! 
My  sovereign's  charge,  and  adverse  fate, 
Have  made  our  meeting  all  too  late  ; 

Yet  this  may  Argentine, 
As  boon  from  ancient  comrade,  crave— 
A  Christian's  Mass,  a  soldier's  grave." 
Bruce  pressed  his  dying  hand— its  grasp 
Kindly  replied  ;  but,  in  his  clasp 

It  stiffen 'd  and  grew  cold 

And,  "  O  farewell !  "  the  victor  cried, 
"  Of  chivalry  the  flower  and  pride, 

The  arm  in  battle  bold. 
The  courteous  mien,  the  noble  race, 
The  stainless  faith,  the  manly  face ! 
Bid  Ninian's  convent  light  their  shrine, 
For  late- wake  of  De  Argentine. 
()'er  better  knight  on  death-bier  laid, 
Torch  never  gleam'd,  nor  Mass  was  said  !  "  ' 

—From  ''  The  Lord  of  the  Isles r 

'  It  is  said  that  the  body  of  Sir  Giles  de  Argentine  was  brought  to  Edin- 
burgh, and  interred  with  the  greatest  pomp  in  St.  Giles'  Church'.  Thus  did 
the  royal  Bruce  respond  to  the  dying  knight's  request. 


kvith 


gore. 


'  1 


474 


PURGATORY. 


PRAY  FOR  THE  MARTYRED  DEAD. 

Pray  for  the  Dead  !     When,  conscienceless,  the  nations 
Rebellious  rose  to  smite  the  thorn-crowned  Head 

Of  Christendom,  their  proudest  aspirations 
Ambitioned  but  a  place  amongst  the  dead. 

Pray  for  the  Dead  !     The  seeming  fabled  story 

Of  early  chivalry,  in  them  renewed, 
Shines  out  to-day  with  an  ascendent  glory 

Above  that  field  of  parricidal  feud. 

The  children  of  a  persecuted  mother, 

When  nations  heard  the  drum  of  battle  beat, 

Through  coward  Europe,  brother  leagued  with  brother, 
Rallied  and  perished  at  her  sacred  feet. 

O  Ireland,  ever  waiting  the  To-morrow, 

Lift  up  thy  widowed,  venerable  head, 
Exultingly,  through  thy  maternal  sorrow, 

Not  comfortless,  like  Rachel,  for  thy  dead. 

For,  where  the  crimson  shock  of  battle  thundered, 

From  hosts  precipitated  on  a  few. 
Above  thy  sons,  outnumbered,  crushed  and  sundered, 

Thy  green  flag  through  the  smoke  and  glitter  flew. 

Lift  up  thy  head  !     The  hurricane  that  dashes 

Its  giant  billows  on  the  Rock  of  Time, 
Divests  thee,  mother,  of  thy  weeds  and  ashes, 

Rendering,  at  least,  thy  grief  sublime. 

For  nations,  banded  into  conclaves  solemn. 
Thy  name  and  spirit  in  the  grave  had  cast, 

And  carved  thy  name  upon  the  crumbling  column 
Which  stands  amid  the  unremembered  Past. 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


475 


3AD. 

>,  the  nations 
ed  Head 

]. 
ory 


Pray  for  the  Dead  !  Cold,  cold  amid  the  splendor 
Of  the  Italian  Soutli  our  brothers  sleep; 

The  blue  air  broods  above  them  warm  and  tender, 
The  mists  s;lide  o'er  them  from  the  barren  deej). 

Pray  for  the  Dead  !     Hif^h-souled  and  lion-hearted, 

Heroic  martyrs  to  a  glorious  trust. 
By  them  oui  scorned  name  is  re-asserted, 

By  them  our  banner  rescued  from  the  dust. 

— Kilkenny  Jonrnal. 


at, 

nth  brother, 


ered, 

mdered, 
er  flew. 


mn 


IN  WINTER. 


ELIZA   AI.I.F.X    STARR. 


How  lonely  on  the  hillside  look  the  graves ! 
The  summer  green  no  longer  o'er  them  waves  ; 
No  more,  among  the  frosted  boughs,  are  heard 
The  mournful  whip-poor-will  or  singing  bird. 

The  rose-bush,  planted  with  such  tearful  care, 
Stands  in  the  winter  sunshine  stiff  and  bare; 
Save  here  and  there  its  lingering  berries  red 
Make  the  cold  sunbeams  w^arm  above  the  dead. 

Through  all  the  pines,  and  through  the  tall,  dry  grass, 
The  fitful  breezes  with  a  shiver  \  jass, 
While  o'er  the  autumn's  lately  iir  wering  weeds 
The  snow-birds  flit  and  peck  the  shelling  seeds. 

Because  those  graves  look  lonely,  bleak  and  bare, 
Because  they  are  not,  as  in  summer,  fair, 
O  turn  from  comforts,  cheery  friends,  and  home, 
And  'mid  their  solemn  desolation  roam ! 

On  each  brown  turf  some  fresh  memorial  lay ; 
O'er  each  dear  hillock's  dust  a  moment  stay. 
To  breathe  a  *'  Rest  in  Peace  "  for  those  who  lie 
On  lonely  hillsides  'neath  a  wintry  sky. 


476 


rURGATORY. 


OREMUS. 


MAKY    F..    MANMX. 


Welcome,  yc  sad  dirges  of  November, 
When  Indian  summer  drops  her  brilliant  crown 
All  withered,  as  in  clinging  mantle  brown 
She  floats  away  to  die  beneath  the  leaves ; 
Pressed  are  the  grapes,  gathered  the  latest  sheaves; 
O  wailing  winds !  how  can  we  but  remember 
The  loved  and  lost  ?     ()  ceaseless  monotones ! 
Hearing  your  plaints,  counting  your  weary  moans 
Like  voices  of  the  dead,  like  broken  sighs 
From  stricken  souls  who  long  for  Paradise, 
We  will  not  slight  the  message  that  ye  bear, 
Nor  check  a  pitying  thought,  nor  guide  a  prayer. 
They  have  departed,  we  must  still  remember ; 
Welcome,  ye  sad,  sad  dirges  of  November ! 


FUNERAL  HYMN. 

From  the  French  of  Theodore  Nisard. 

A.  T.  SADLIER. 

The  bell  is  tolling  for  the  dead, 
Christians,  hasten  we  to  prayer. 
Our  brothers  suffer  there, 
Consumed  in  struggles  vain. 


Have  pity,  have  pity  on  them, 
In  torturing  flames  immersed. 
The  stains  their  souls  aspersed 
Retain  them  far  from  heav'n. 


nt  crown 

wn 

cs; 

test  sheaves; 
ember 
tones ! 
eary  moans 

IS 

ise, 
bear, 

a  prayer, 
mber; 
)er! 


LEGENDARY   AND    POETICAL. 

Since  God  has  ijiv'n  us  power, 
Oh,  let  us  tlieir  woes  relieve  ; 
Their  hope  do  not  deceive, 
Our  protectors  they  will  be. 

For  these  sufF'ring  ones  we  [)ray, 
Lord  Jesus,  Victim  blest, 
Take  them  from  pain  to  rest, 
Thy  children,  too,  arc  they. 


477 


[As  the  translation  is  a  very  rude  one.  we  add  the  French  original,  which 
particularly  when  set  to  music,  is  full  of  a  deep  solemnity  and  pathos.]        ' 

CHANT  FUNEBRE. 

NISARD. 

La  cloche  tintc  pour  Ics  morts 
Chretiens,  mettons  nous  en  prieres  ! 
Ceux  qui  gemissent  sont  dcs  freres, 
Se  consumant  en  vains  efforts. 
Pitie  pour  cux  !     Pitie  pour  cux  ! 
lis  tourbillonnent  dans  la  flamme; 
Les  taches  qui  souillcnt  leur  ames, 
Les  tiennent  captifs  loin  des  cicux! 
Mettons  un  tcrme  a  leur  douleurs, 
Dieu  nous  en  donnc  la  puissance ; 
Ne  trompons  point  leur  csperancc, 
Puis  ils  seront  nos  protecteurs. 
Disons  pour  nos  fieres  souffrants  : 
Sauveur  Jesus,  Sainte  Victimc, 
Tirez  nos  freres  de  I'abime, 
Car,  eux  aussi,  sont  vos  enfants. 


-^^B-^ 


vrC?> 


478 


rURGATORV. 


REaUIESCAT  IN  PACE. 


HARRii:r  m.  skidmure. 


!  il 


M  ■      h 


O  Fatiikr,  give  them  rest — 
Thy  faithrul  ones,  whose  day  of  toil  is  o'er, 
Whose  weary  feet  shall  wander  never  more 

O'er  earth's  unquiet  breast ! 

The  battle-strife  was  loni^ ; 
Yet,  L^irt  with  i^race,  and  guided  by  Thy  light, 
They  faltered  not  till  triumph  closed  the  fight, 

Till  pealed  the  victor's  song. 

Though  drear  the  desert  path. 
With  cruel  thorns  and  llinty  fragments  strewn, 
Where  fiercely  swept,  amid  the  glare  of  noon. 

The  plague-wind's  biting  wrath. 

Still  onward  pressed  their  feet ; 
For  patience  soothed  with  sweet  celestial  balm, 
And,  from  the  rocks,  hope  called  her  founts  to  calm 

The  Simoom's  venom-heat. 

Their  march  hath  reached  its  close. 
Its  toils  are  o'er,  its  Red  Sea  safely  passed ; 
And  pilgrim  feet  have  cast  aside  at  last 

Earth's  sandal-shoon  of  woes. 

Thou  blissful  promised  land ! 
One  rapturous  glimpse  of  matchless  glory  caught, 
One  priceless  vision,  with  thy  beauty  fraught, 

Hath  blessed  that  way-worn  band. 

And  to  thy  smiling  shore 
Their  ceaseless  messengers  of  longing  went. 
And  blooms  of  bliss  and  fruitage  of  content, 

Returning,  gladly  bore. 


li:(;i:m)akv  and  roirriLAL. 

Vet  sadly  still  they  wait ; 
For,  past  idolatries  to  ^ods  of  clay, 
And  past  rebellions  '<^ainst  the  Master's  sway, 

Have  barred  the  j>^oldeii  gale. 

The  niaj^ic  voice  of  prayer, 
The  saviiij^  rite,  the  sacrifice  of  love, 
The  human  tear,  the  si<^h  of  Saints  above. 

Blent  in  (jne  off 'rintr  fair — 

These,  these  alone,  can  win 
The  boon  they  crave:  j^lad  eiitrance  into  rest. 
The  fadeless  crown,  the  s^annent  of  the  blest. 

Washed  pure  from  stain  of  sin. 

Hear,  then,  our  caj^er  cry. 
()  God  of  mercy  !  bid  their  anguish  cease  ; 
To  i)risoned  souls,  ah  !  brin<^  the  glad  release, 

And  hush  the  mourner's  sigh. 

Mother  of  pitying  love  ! 
On  sorrow's  flood  thy  tender  glances  bend. 
And  o'er  its  dark  and  dreadful  torrent  send 

The  olive-bearins:  dove. 


479 


Thy  potent  prayer  shall  be 
An  arch  of  peace,  a  radiant  promise-bow. 
To  span  the  gulf,  and  shed  its  cheering  glow 

O'er  the  dread  penance-sea. 

And  on  its  pathway  blest 
The  ransomed  throng,  in  garments  washed  and  white, 
May  safely  pass  to  love's  fair  realm  of  light, 

To  heaven's  perfect  rest. 


48o 


PURGATORY. 


I 


!l     I 


IIB-    i 


!■    I 


THE  FEAST  OF  ALL  SOULS  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

/><?/«  i/ic  French  of  Fontanes} 

ANNA  T.    SADLIER. 

E'en  now  doth  Sagittarius  from  on  high, 
Outstretch  his  bow,  and  ravage  all  the  earth. 
The  hills,  and  meadows  where  of  flowers  the  dearth 

Already  felt,  like  some  vast  ruins  lie. 

The  bleak  November  counts  its  primal  day, 
While  I,  a  witness  of  the  year's  decline. 
Glad  of  my  rest,  within  the  fields  recline. 

No  poet  heart  this  beauty  can  gainsay, 

No  feeling  mind  these  autumn  pictures  scorn, 
But  knows  how  their  monotonous  charms  adorn. 

Oh,  with  what  joy  does  dreamy  sorrow  stray 
At  eve,  slow  pacing,  the  dun-colored  vale  ; 
He  seeks  the  yellow  woods,  and  hears  the  tale 

Of  winds  that  strip  them  of  their  lonely  leaves  ; 

For  this  low  murmur  all  my  sense  deceives. 
In  rustliiig  forests  do  I  seem  to  hear 
Those  voices  long  since  still,  to  me  most  dear. 

In  leaves  grown  sere  they  speak  unto  my  heart. 
This  season  round  the  coffin-lid  we  press, 
Religion  wears  herself  a  mourning  dress, 

More  grand  she  seems,  while  her  diviner  part 

At  sight  of  this,  a  world  in  ruins,  grows. 

To-day  a  pious  usage  she  has  taught. 

Her  voice  opes  vaults  wherein  our  fathers  dwell. 

Alas,  my  memory  doth  keep  that  thought. 
The  dawn  appeareth,  and  the  swaying  bell 

Mingles  its  mournful  sound  with  whistling  winds, 
The  Feast  of  Death  proclaiming  to  the  air. 
Men,  Avomen,  children,  to  the  Church  repair. 

Where  one,  with  speech  and  with  example  binds 

*  Louis,  Marquis  de  Fontanes,  Peer  of  France,  and  Member  of  the  French 
Academy. 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


481 


Iber  of  the  French 


These  happy  tribes,  maintaining-  all  in  j)eacc. 
He  follows  them,  the  first  apostles,  near, 
Like  them  the  pastor's  holy  name  makes  dear. 

"  With  hymns  of  joy,"  said  he,  "  but  yesterday 
We  celebrated  the  triumphant  dead 
Who  conquer'd  heav'n  by  burning  zeal,  f.iith-fed. 

For  plaintive  shades,  whom  sorrow  makes  his  prey 
We  weep  to-day,  our  mourning  is  their  biiss, 
All  potent  prayer  is  privileged  in  this. 
Souls  purified  from  sin  by  transient  pain 
It  frees  ;  we'll  visit  their  most  calm  domain. 

Man  seeks  it,  and  descends  there  every  hour. 

But  dry  our  tears,  for  now  celestial  rays 

The  grave's  dim  region  swift  shall  penetrate ; 
Yea,  all  its  dwellers  in  their  primal  state 

Shall  wake,  behold  the  light  in  mute  amaze. 
Ah,  might  I  to  that  world  my  flight  then  wing- 
In  triumph  to  my  God,  my  flock  recovered  bring." 

So  saying,  offered  he  the  holy  rite, 

With  arms  extended  praying  God  to  spare, 
The  while  adoring  knelt  he  humbly  there. 
That  people  prostrate  !  oh,  most  solemn  sight 
That  church,  its  porticoes  with  moss  o'ergrown. 
The  ancient  w^alls,  dim  light  and  Gothic  panes, 
In  its  antiquity  the  brazen  lamp 
A  symbol  of  eternity  doth  stamp. 
A  lasting  sun.     God's  majesty  down  sent. 
Vows,  tears  and  incense  from  the  altars  rise, 
Young  beauties  praying  'neath  their  mothers'  eyes, 
Do  soften  by  their  voices  innocent, 
The  touching  pomp  religion  there  reveals  ; 
The  organ  hush'd,  the  sacred  silence  round, 
All,  all  uplifts,  ennobles  and  inspires  ; 
Man  feels  himself  transported  where  the  choirs 
Of  seraphim  with  harps  of  gold  entone 
Low  at  Jehovah's  feet  their  endless  song. 


I  1 

I 

1  I 

i    i 


■ — i 


482 


rURGATORY. 


Then  God  cloth  make  His  awful  presence  known, 
Hides  from  the  wise,  to  loving  hearts  is  shown  : 

He  seeks  less  to  be  proved  than  to  be  felt.^ 

From  out  the  Church  the  multitudes  depart, 
In  separate  groups  unto  th'  abode  they  go 
Of  tranquil  death,  their  tears  still  silent  flow. 

The  standard  of  the  Cross  is  borne  apart, 
Sublime  our  songs  for  death  their  sacred  theme. 
Now  mixed  with  noise  that  heralds  storms  they  seem  ; 

Now  lower  above  our  heads  the  dark'ning  clouds, 
Our  faces  mournful,  our  funereal  hymn 

Both  air  and  landscape  in  our  grief  enshrouds. 

Towards  death's  tranquil  haven,  on  we  fare. 
The  cypress,  ivy,  and  the  yew  trees  haunt 

The  spot  where  thorns  seem  growing  everywhere. 

Sparse  lindens  rise  up  grimly  here  and  there. 

The  winds  rush  whistling  through  their  branches  gaunt. 
Hard  by  a  stream,  my  mind  found  there  exprest 
In  waves  and  tombs  a  twofold  lesson  drest. 
Eternal  movement  and  eternal  rest. 

Ah,  with  what  holy  joy  these  peasants  fain 

Would  honor  parent  dust ;  they  seek  with  pride 
The  stone  or  turf,  concealing  those  allied 

To  them  by  love,  they  find  them  here  again. 

Alas,  with  us  we  may  not  seek  the  boon 
Of  gazing  on  the  ashes  of  oar  dead. 
Our  dead  arc  banish'd,  on  their  rights  we  tread. 

Their  bones  unhonored  at  hap-hazard  strewn. 
E'en  now  'gainst  us  cry  out  their  Manes  pale. 
Those  nations  and  those  times  dire  woes  entail, 

'Mongst  whom  in  hearts  grown  weak  by  slow  degree, 
The  cultiis  of  the  dead  has  ceased. 


*  La  Harpe  said  that  these  last  twenty  lines  were  the  most  beautiful  verses 
in  the  French  tongue.  They  necessarily  lose  considerably  in  the  transla- 
tion. 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 


483 


Here,  here,  at  least  have  they  from  wrong  been  free, 
Their  heritage  of  peace  preserving  best. 

No  sumptuous  marbles  burden  names  here  writ, 

A  shepherd,  farmer,  peasant,  as  is  fit, 
Beneath  these  stones  in  tranquil  slumber  see ; 

Perchance  a  Turenne,  a  Corneille  they  hide, 
Who  lived  obscure,  e'en  to  himself  unknown. 

But  if  from  men  he'd  risen  separate, 

Sublime  in  camps,  the  theatre,  the  state. 
His  name  by  idol-loving  worlds  outcried. 
Would  that  have  made  his  slumber  here  more  sweet  ? 


REaUIEM  ^TERNAM. 


T.    D.    MCGEE. 


[This  beautiful  requiem,  written  March  6th,  186S  (St.  Victor's  Day),  on 
the  death  of  an  intimate  friend,  acquires  a  new  pathos  and  a  new  solemnity, 
from  the  fact  that  its  gifted  author  met  his  death  at  the  hands  of  an  assassin 
but  one  month  later,  on  the  7th  of  April  of  the  same  year.  Like  Mozart, 
he  wrote  his  own  requiem.] 


Saint  Victor's  Day,  a  day  of  woe. 
The  bier  that  bore  our  dead  went  slo 
And  silent  gliding  o'er  the  snow — 

Miserere  Doininr  ! 


With  Villa  Maria's  faithful  dead. 
Among  the  just  we  make  his  bed. 
The  cross  he  loved,  to  shield  his  head — 

Miserere  Doinine  ! 


The  skies  may  lower,  wild  storms  may  rave 
Above  our  comrade's  mountain  grave, 
That  cross  is  mighty  still  to  save — 

Miserere  Do  mine  ! 


Hi  li 


I  i 


I 


ill 


M 


484  PURGATORY. 

Deaf  to  the  calls  of  love  and  care, 
He  bears  no  more  his  mortal  share, 
Nought  can  avail  him  now  but  prayer — 

Miserere  Doviinc  ! 

To  such  a  heart  who  could  refuse 
Just  payment  of  all  burial  dues, 
Of  Holy  Church  the  rite  and  use  ? 

Miserere  Doininc  ! 

Right  solemnly  the  Mass  was  said, 
While  burn'd  the  tapers  round  the  dead, 
And  manly  tears  like  rain  were  shed — 

Miserere  Doniine  ! 

No  more  St.  Patrick's  aisles  prolong 
The  burden  of  his  funeral  song, 
His  noiseless  night  must  now  be  long — 

Miserere  Domine  ! 

Up  from  the  depths  we  heard  arise 
A  prayer  of  pity  to  the  skies, 
To  Him  who  dooms  or  justifies — 

Miserere  Domine  / 

Down  from  the  skies  we  heard  descend 
The  promises  the  Psalmist  penned. 
The  iDcnedictions  without  end — 

Miserere  Domine  / 

Mighty  our  Holy  Church's  will 
To  shield  her  parting  souls  from  ill, 
Jealous  of  Death,  she  guards  them  still — 

Miserere  Domine  ! 

The  dearest  friend  will  turn  away, 
And  leave  the  clay  to  keep  the  clay, 
Ever  and  ever  she  will  stay — 

Miserere  Domine  ! 


LEGENDARY   AND   POETICAL. 

When  for  us  sinners  at  our  need, 
That  mother's  voice  is  raised  to  plead, 
The  frontier  hosts  of  heaven  take  heed — 

Miserere  Do  mine  / 

Mother  of  Love !    Mother  of  fear, 
And  holy  Hope,  and  Wisdom  dear. 
Behold  we  bring  thy  suppliant  here — 

J\  User  ere  Do)  nine  ! 

His  glowing  heart  is  still  for  aye. 
That  held  fast  by  thy  clemency, 
Oh !  look  on  him  with  loving  eye — 

Miserere  Doinine  ! 

His  Faith  was  as  the  tested  gold, 
His  Hope  assured,  not  over-bold. 
His  Charities  past  count,  untold — 

Miserere  Doniine  ! 

Well  may  they  grieve  who  laid  him  there, 
Where  shall  they  find  his  equal — where? 
Nought  can  avail  him  now  but  prayer — 

Miserere  Do  mine  I 

Friend  of  my  soul,  farewell  to  thee  ! 
Thy  truth,  thy  trust,  thy  chivalry ; 
As  thine,  so  may  my  last  end  be ! 

Miserere  Doinine  / 


485 


i 


I  : 


i 


I 


I 
ft 


APPENDIX. 


ASSOCIATION    OF    MASSES    AND    STATIONS   OF   THE 
CROSS  FOR  THE  RELIEF  OF  THE  HOLY  SOULS. 

It  would  be  a  great  defect  in  a  book  such  as  this  to  omit  all  men- 
tion of  an  Association  which  exists  in  Montreal,  Canada,  for  the 
special  relief  of  the  Souls  in  Purgatory.  It  is  certain  that  there  are 
Purgatorian  societies,  established  in  many  other  cities,  both  of  Eu- 
rope and  America.  But  this  Canadian  one  seems  unique,  in  so 
far,  that  it  has  a  triple  aim  :  first,  that  of  relieving  the  holy  souls  ; 
second,  that  of  the  conversion  of  infidels ;  third,  that  of  contribut- 
ing to  the  support  of  the  Mendicant  Order  of  St.  Francis.  The 
money  received  is  sent  direct  to  these  missionaries,  by  whom  the 
Masses  are  said.  Touching  stories  are  told  of  the  joy  of  these  de- 
voted apostles  on  receipt  of  such  alms,  which  aid  them  so  much  in 
the  various  good  works  in  which  they  are  engaged. 

The  society  has,  as  it  were,  two  branches.  In  the  first  the  as- 
sociates merely  bind  themselves  to  make  the  Way  of  the  Cross  once 
a  week,  on  a  day  fixed,  with  the  primary  object  of  relieving  the 
holy  souls,  and  particularly  those  most  pleasing  to  God  ;  and  the 
secondary  one  of  converting  the  infidels.  At  the  end  of  this  exer- 
cise, they  make  use  of  the  following  invocation:  ''Holy  Souls  in 
Purgatory,  rest  in  peace,  and  pray  for  us." 

The  other  branch  has  for  its  object  the  procuring  of  Masses  for 
the  deliverance  of  the  suffering  souls.  Each  associate  must  pay  to 
the  treasurer  twenty-five  cents  a  month,  or  three  dollars  a  year  ;  for 
which  Masses  will  be  said  according  to  the  intention  of  the  sub- 
scriber, having  always  in  view  those  souls  which  are  most  pleasing 
to  God. 

One  may  become  a  life  member,  on  payment  of  twenty-five  dol- 
lars. Foundations  of  Masses  can  also  be  made  in  connection  with 
the  Association.  They  are  similar  to  those  which  came  into  exist- 
ence at  the  time  of  the  Crusades  and  at  many  other  epochs  in  Chris- 
tian history.       Such  foundations   are    sometimes    made    in   wills. 


( 


; 


\i 


488 


APrENDIX. 


They  are,  of  course,  not  within  the  reach  of  everyone.  It  is  neces- 
sary to  pay  fi\c  hunched  dollars  into  tiie  hands  of  the  Society. 
Kvery  necessary  security  for  its  proper  use  is  given,  and  the  donor 
is  entitled  in  perpetuity  to  a  certain  yearly  rental  to  be  expended 
in  Masses  for  his  soul.  The  sum  may  be  paid  in  instalments,  or 
several  persons  may  club  together  in  making  the  foundation.  It  is 
a  sublime  thought  that  the  Holy  Sacrifice  will  thus  continue  to  be 
said  for  us,  long  after  our  memory  has  passed  away  from  earth. 
]]ut  as  the  three  dollars  a  year  which  constitutes  one  a  member  of 
tlie  Association  is  much  more  within  the  reach  of  most  of  us,  it  may 
be  well  to  lay  more  stress  upon  the  advantages  which  we  shall 
thereby  gain  for  ourselves  and  our  deceased  friends.  It  eniiiles  us 
after  death  to  a  special  Mass  and  a  Way  of  the  Cross  every  year 
from  each  associate.  The  number  of  associates  is  very  great  ;  be- 
sides a  share  in  all  the  Masses  and  Stations,  we  have  also  a 
share  in  the  good  works  of  the  missionaries  of  St.  Francis,  and  can 
gain  Indulgences  which  have  been  granted  to  the  members.  These 
Indulgences,  plenary  and  partial,  are  attached  to  all  the  principal, 
and  to  some  of  the  minor  feasts  of  the  year. 

In  connection  with  the  work,  an  almanac  both  in  French  and 
English  is  published  every  year  at  Montreal,  and  sold  for  the  mod- 
erate sum  of  five  cents.  In  this  pamphlet  a  full  account  is  given  of 
the  Association,  and  there  is  besides  a  great  deal  of  useful  and  in- 
teresting reading,  such  as  anecdotes  relating  to  the  dead,  the  opin- 
ions of  various  spiritual  authors  on  I'urgalory,  and  letters  from 
foreign  countries,  or  from  various  individuals  concerning  the  society 
and  its  progress.^ 


EXTRACTS    FROM    "THE   CATHOLIC    REVIEW."'' 

"  Thi>:  Month  of  the  Holv  Souls  "'  is  at  hand.  In  Catholic  lands 
November  is  specially  devoted  by  the  faithful  to  increased  suffrages 
for  the  repose  of  the  holy  and  patient  dead.  Many  reports  reach 
us  from  experienced  priests  showing  that  the  practice  of  requesting 
Requiem  Masses  for  the  dead  is  not  increasing.  Priests  have  what 
is,  in  some  respects,  a  natural  objection  to  urge  upon  their  people 

'  To  become  an  associate  one  must  address  himself  to  the  chaplain,  Rev. 
F.  Reid,  401  St.  Denis  Street,  or  to  the  treasurer,  Louis  Ricard,  Esq.,  166 
St.  Denis  St.,  Montreal,  Canada. 

2  November,  1885. 


APrEXDIX. 


489 


»nc.     It  is  neces- 

of  the  Society. 

n,  and  tlie  donor 

to  be  expended 

11  instalments,  or 

)undation.     It  is 

i  continue  to  be 

^vay   from   earth. 

ne  a  member  of 

lost  of  us,  it  may 

\vhieii  we  shall 

;.     It  entitles  us 

>oss  every  year 

very  great ;  be- 

ve    have   also  a 

'rancis,  and  can 

lembers.    These 

11  the  principal, 

in  French  and 

d  for  the  mod- 

)unt  is  given  of 

useful  and  in- 

ead,  the  opin- 

letters  from 

ing  the  society 


:viEw. 


V  2 


Catholic  lands 
ased  suffrages 
reports  reach 
of  requesting 
ists  have  what 
n  their  people 

chaplain,  Rev. 
icard,  Esq.,  166 


perseverance  in  this  old  Catholic  practice  of  piety  and  gratitude. 
It  is  one  which  can  be  easily  understood.  Yet,  largely  owing  (o  this 
nice  delicacy,  they  are,  after  their  own  deaths,  forgotten  by  niuiy 
bound  to  fhem  through  spiritual  gratitude.  One  of  the  most  ex- 
perienced priests  in  New  York  tells  us  thai  for  five  priests  tli.u  li.i\e 
died  in  his  house  he  has  not  known  ten  Masses  to  be  said  at  llie 
request  of  the  laity.  How  does  friendshi[)  serve  others  less  public 
and  less  popular .?  It  gives  a  big  funeral,  a  long  procession  of 
useless  carriages,  but  no  alms  to  the  poor,  and  no  Masses  for  the 
dead. 

What  a  pity  it  is  that  in  drawing  so  much  that  is  Catholic  and 
beautiful  from  Ireland,  we  did  not  adopt  its  truly  Christian  devotion 
for  the  forgotten  and  neglected  dead,  which  makes  every  priest  re- 
cite the  L>c'  Profundis  and  prayers  for  the  faithful  departed,  before 
he  leaves  the  altar.  We  noticed  some  time  airo  that  the  Holv  See 
sanctioned  a  Spanish  practice  of  permitting  to  each  priest  three 
Masses  on  All  Souls'  Day  as  on  Christmas  Day.  No  doubt,  were 
it  properly  petitioned,  it  would  likewise  extend  to  all  the  churches 
drawing  their  faith  from  St.  Patrick's  preaching,  that  privilege,  as 
well  as  the  beautiful  custom  that  now  has  the  force  of  law  in  Ire- 
land, and  that  recalls  so  much  of  her  devotion  to  the  dead  and  of 
her  suffering  for  the  Catholic  faith.  That  De  Frofundis  is  one  of 
the  chapters  of  "  fossil  history,"  which  in  all  future  periods  will  re- 
call the  generous  endowments  that  Ireland  once  provided  for  her 
dead,  and  the  ruthless  confiscations  by  which  they  were  robbed. 

Not  a  Catholic  American  paper  that  vvc  have  received  this  No- 
vember has  failed  to  argue  ably,  generously,  and  most  Christianly, 
for  suffrages  for  those  who  have  gone  before  and  are  anticipating 
the  advent  of  final  peace. 

The  letters  which  come  to  a  Catholic  newspaper  office  are  a  very 
sure  barometer  of  the  waves  of  thought  in  the  Catholic  atmosphere 
of  the  country.  From  those  that  we  have  received  we  can  affu'm 
that  no  devotion  would  be  much  more  popular  with  the  people  than 
that  which  was  pronounced  in  the  days  of  the  Maccabees  "a  holy 
and  wholesome  thought." 

Every  day  now  there  is  an  agreeable  record  in  the  daily  papers 
of  New  York  of  Requiem  services  held  in  the  various  churches  for 


490 


APPENDIX. 


the  repose  of  the  soul  of  the  hite  Cardinal.  Church  after  church 
seems  to  surpass  its  predecessors  in  the  grateful  devotion  of  the 
people,  who  show  that  they  remember  tiieir  prchite.  In  St. 
Gabriel's  the  Cardinal's  private  secretary,  Mgr.  Farley,  had  the 
satisfaction  of  witnessing;  an  exceptionally  large  gathering  to  honor 
his  illustrious  chief  The  Paulist  Fathers  had  a  Requiem  service 
that  was  worthy  of  their  Church  and  their  affection  for  the  dead,  to 
whom  they  were  bound  by  so  many  ties. 

Rome,  if  the  city  of  the  soul,  is  also  pre-eminently  the  city  of  the 
dead.  So  many  great  and  illustrious  deaths  are  reported  to  it  daily 
from  the  ends  of  the  earth  that  to  it  death  and  greatness  are 
familiar  and  almost  unnoliceable  facts.  It  is,  therefore,  not  unde- 
serving of  remark  to  find  the  newspapers  of  the  Eternal  City 
marking  their  notices  of  the  passing  of  our  Cardinal  with  unusual 
signs  of  mourning.  Their  comments  on  the  great  loss  of  the  Amer- 
ican Church  are  toned  by  the  gravis  mccror  with  which  the  Holy 
Father  received  by  Atlantic  Cable  the  sad  news. 

In  the  American  College,  Rev.  Dr.  O'Connell,  the  President, 
took  immediate  steps  to  ]")ay  to  its  illustrious  patron  the  last 
homage  that  Catholic  affection  and  loyalty  can  render  to  the  great 
dead.  From  a  letter  to  IVic  CatJiolk  Review  we  learn  that  the  cele- 
brant of  the  Solemn  Mass  of  Requiem  was  the  rector,  Rev.  Dr. 
O'Connell  ;  Rev.  John  Curley,  deacon  ;  Rev.  Bernard  Duff}',  sub- 
deacon  ;  Rev.  Thomas  McManus  and  William  Guinon,  acolytes  ; 
Mr.  William  Murphy,  thurifer;  and  Rev.  Messrs.  Cunnion  and 
Raymond,  masters  of  ceremonies.  All  these  gentlemen  are  students 
from  the  diocese  of  New  York. 


A    REQUIEM    FOR    THE    CARDINAL    IN    PARIS. 

Paris,  October  30. — A  solemn  funeral  service  of  exceptional 
splendor  was  celebrated  this  morning  at  the  Madeleine  for  the  re- 
pose of  the  late  Cardinal  McCloskey,  Archbishop  of  New  York. 
The  church  was  hung  with  black  and  was  resplendent  with  lights. 
Outside  the  portico,  on  the  steps,  were  two  large  funeral  torches, 
with  green  flames.  Similar  torches  were  visible  in  many  parts  of 
the  edifice,  including  the  lofty  upper  galleries.  The  catafalque  was 
of  large  dimensions,  and  was  flanked  on  either  side  by  numerous 
lights  and  torches  as  well  as  by  marble  images.     Over  all  was  a 


APPENDIX, 


491 


ch  after  rlnirch 
devotion  of  the 
rehite.  In  St. 
I'arlcy,  h;ul  the 
liering  to  honor 
Lequiem  service 
for  the  dead,  to 


y  the  city  of  the 
orted  to  it  daily 
greatness  are 
eforc,  not  unde- 
2  Eternal  City 
lal  with  unusual 
ss  of  the  Amer- 
■hich  the  Holy 


the  President, 
atron  the  last 
er  to  the  great 
that  the  cele- 
ctor,  Rev.  Dr. 
d  Duffy,  sub- 
on,  acolytes  ; 
Cunnion  and 
n  are  students 


ARIS. 

exceptional 
ne  for  the  re- 
f  New  York, 
t  with  lights, 
eral  torches, 
lany  parts  of 
tafalque  was 
by  numerous 
,'er  all  was  a 


sable  canopy,  suspended  from  the  ceiling.  A  Cardinal's  hat,  with 
its  tassels,  lay  on  the  pall.  The  late  Cardinal's  motto,  "  In  the 
hope  of  life  eternal,"  was  repeated  frequently  in  the  decorations. 


A    DUTY    OF    NOVEMBER. 

"HAVE  PITY  ON   ME,    AT   LEAST   YOU,    MY   FRIENDS." 

(From  the  Texas  Monitor.) 

Wii  have  often  repeated  in  our  morning  and  night  prayers  the 
words  of  the  Creed:  "  I  believe  iii  the  communion  of  saints,"  with- 
out thinking,  perhaps,  that  we  were  expressing  our  belief  in  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  and  consoling  doctrines  of  the  Holy  Catholic 
Church.  I  believe  in  the  commuiiioi:  of  saints — that  is,  I  believe 
ill  the  holy  communion  of  prayer  and  intercession  which  exists 
between  all  the  members  of  the  Mystical  IJotly  of  Christ — the 
Church,  be  they  fighting  the  battles  of  the  Lord  against  the  De\il 
the  Flesh,  and  the  World,  in  the  ranks  of  the  Church  Militant  on 
earth,  or  enjoying  in  the  happy  mansions  of  Heaven  their  eternal 
reward,  as  members  of  the  Church  Triumphant,  or  finally  waiting 
in  the  dark  prison  of  Purgatory  until  they  shall  have  paid  their  debt 
to  the  Eternal  Justice  "A>  the  last  farthing''^  and  be  saved  "yet,  so 
a3  by  fire."  I  believe  in  the  communion  of  saints — that  is,  I  believe 
that  there  exists  no  barrier  between  the  members  of  Christ.  Death 
itself  cannot  separate  us  from  our  brethren,  who  have  gone  before 
us.  We  believe  that  we  daily  escape  innumerable  dangers,  both 
spiritual  and  temporal,  through  the  prayers  of  our  friends  of  the 
'^I'riumphant  Church  ;  and  we  believe  also  that  it  is  within  our  power 
to  help  by  our  prayers  and  sacrifices  our  friends  who  are  for  a  time 
in  the  middle  place  of  expiation,  because  "nothing  defiled  can  enter 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven," 

It  has  always  been  the  practice  of  the  Catholic  Church  to  offer 
prayers  and  other  pious  works  in  suffrage  for  the  dead,  as  is  abun- 
dantly proved  by  the  writings  of  the  Latin  Fathers,  Tertullian,  St. 
Cyprian,  St.  Augustine,  St.  Gregory,  and  of  the  Greek  Fathers,  St. 
Ephrem,  St.  Basil,  and  St.  John  Chrysostom.     St.  Chrysostom  says: 

'•  It  was  not  without  good  reason  ordained  by  the  Apostles  that 
mention  should  be  made  of  the  dead  in  the  tremendous  mysteries, 
because  they  knew  well  that  these  would  receive  great  benefit 
from  it." 


#r 


492 


APPENDIX. 


By  the  expression  "  trcmciicloiis  mystcncs  "  is  meant  the  Holy 
Sacrifice  of  the  Mass. 

St.  Au}j;ustine  says,  npon  tiie  same  siil)j('ct : 

"It  is  not  to  be  douhtecl  that  tlu;  dead  are  aided  by  prayors  of 
tlie  Holy  C'luucli  and  by  the  salutary  sacrifice,  and  by  the  alms 
which  are  offered  for  their  spirits  that  the  Lord  may  deal  with  tliein 
more  mercifully  than  their  sins  have  deserved.  For  this,  which 
has  been  iianded  down  by  the  Fathers,  the  Universal  Church  ob- 
serves.'' 

St.  Augustine  also  tells  us  that  Arius  was  the  first  who  dared  to 
leach  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  offer  up  prayers  and  sacrifices  for  the 
dead,  and  this  doctrine  of  Arius  he  reckoned  among  heresies. 
(Heresy  53.) 

The  Church  has  always  made  a  memento  of  the  dead  in  the  holy 
sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  and  exhorted  the  faithful  to  pray  for  them. 
She  urges  us  to  pray  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  because  not  being 
able  to  merit,  they  cannot  helj)  themselves  in  the  least.  I'o  their 
appeals  for  mercy  the  Almighty  answers  that  His  Justice  must  be 
satisfied,  and  that  the  night  in  which  no  one  can  any  longer  work 
has  arrived  for  them  (St.  John  i\.,  v.  4),  and  thus  these  poor  souls 
have  recourse  to  our  prayers.  According  to  the  pious  Gerson  we 
may  hear  their  supplications:  "Pray  for  us  because  we  cannot  do 
anytliing  for  ourselves.  This  help  we  have  a  right  to  cxj^ect  from 
you,  you  have  known  and  loved  us  in  the  world.  Do  not  forget  us 
in  the  time  of  our  need.  It  is  said  that  it  is  in  the  time  of  aflliction 
that  we  know  our  true  friends  ;  but  what  aflliction  could  be  com- 
pared to  ours?  Be  moved  with  compassion."  Have  pity  on  us,  at 
least  you,  our  friends ! 

The  Church  being  aware  of  the  ingratitude  and  forgetfulncss  of 
men,  and  the  facility  with  which  they  neglect  their  most  sacred 
duties,  has  set  apart  a  d;iy  to  be  consecrated  to  the  remembrance 
of  the  dead.  On  the  2d  day  of  November,  All  Souls'  Day,  she  ap- 
plies all  her  prayers  to  propitiate  the  Divine  Mercy  through  the 
merits  of  the  Precious  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  her  Divine  Spouse,  to 
obtain  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory  the  remission  of  the  temporal 
punishment  due  to  their  sins,  and  their  speedy  admission  into  the 
eternal  abode  of  rest,  light,  and  bliss.  How  holy  and  precious  is 
the  institution  of  All  Souls'  Day!  How  full  of  charity  I  It  truly 
demoustrates  the  love  and  solicitude  of  the  Church  for  all  her  chil- 
dren.    In  the  first  centuries  of  the  Church,  while  the  faithful  were 


APPENDIX. 


493 


meant  the  Holy 


(1  by  prawMS  of 
11(1  by  the  alms 
^  deal  Willi  llicm 
For  this,  which 
isal  Church  ob- 

st  who  dared  to 
lacrifices  for  the 
mong   heresies. 

lead  ill  the  holy 

pray  for  them. 

ause  not  bein<>: 

east.     I'o  their 

usticc  must  be 

my  longer  work 

hese  poor  souls 

ious  Gerson  we 

I  wc  cannot  do 

to  expect  from 

o  not  forget  us 

me  of  aflliction 

could  be  com- 

pity  on  us,  at 

Drgetfulness  of 
r  most  sacred 

remembrance 
'  Day,  she  np- 
y  through  the 
ine  Spouse,  to 

the  temporal 
ssion  into  the 
iid  precious  is 
ityl  It  truly 
)r  all  her  chil- 
i  faithful  were 


most  exact  in  praying  for  tlu-ir  deceased  friends  and  ivlativcs  and 
in  having  the  holy  sacrifice  of  the  Mass  otTiTed  for  tlnin,  ihe  C'hurcli 
liad  not  yet  appointed  a  special  day  for  all  the  souls  in  I'uigator}'. 
]»iit  in  (^98  St.  Odilon,  Abbot  of  Cluny.  h.i\ing  established  in  all 
the  inoiiastcr/*-S  of  his  c/i  tier  the  feast  of  llu.'  coimiK'nioiatioii  of  the 
tailhfu!  departe<l,  .ind  ordered  that  the  ofiice  be  recited  for  tin  in 
all,  this  di  iolion  which  was  approved  by  the  I'opes,  soon  became 
general  in  all  tlw  Western  Churches. 

In  doing  away  with  the  Christian  practice  of  praying  for  the 
dead,  the  Protestant  sects  have  despised  the  voice  of  nature,  the 
spirit  of  Christianity,  and  the  most  ancient  and  respectable  tradi- 
tion. 

The  most  efficacious  means  to  help  the  suffering  souls  in  I'lir- 
gatory  are  prayei-,  fasting,  almsgiving,  and  above  all  the  holy  sacrifice 
of  the  Mass.  lly  fasting  we  mean  all  sorts  of  mortifications  to  ab- 
stain from  certain  things  in  our  meals,  to  deprive  ourselves  of  lawful 
amusements,  to  suffer  with  resignation  trials  and  contradictions, 
humiliations  and  reverses  of  fortune.  'I'he  alms  we  give  f(jt-  the 
dead  prompt  the  Lord  to  be  merciful  to  them.  'I'he  sacrifice  of  the 
Mass,  which  was  instituted  for  the  living  ami  the  dead,  is  the  most 
efficacious  means  of  delivering  them  fiom  their  pains.  "If  the 
sacrifices  which  Job,"  says  St.  John  Chrysostom,  "  ottered  to  (jocI 
for  his  children  purified  them,  who  couhl  doubt  that,  when  we  olVer 
to  God  the  Adorable  Sacrifice  for  the  departed,  they  reci-ive  con- 
solation therefrom,  and  that  the  ]>lood  of  Christ  which  flows  upon 
our  altars  for  them,  the  voice  of  which  ascends  to  heaven,  brings 
about  their  deliverance." 

Not  only  charity  and  gratitude  demand  that  wc  should  pray  for 
the  souls  in  Purgatory,  but  it  is  also  for  us  a  positive  duty,  which 
we  are  in  justice  bound  to  fulfill.  Perhaps  some  of  these  poor  souls 
are  suffering  on  our  account.  Perhaps  they  are  relatives  or  friends 
who  have  loved  us  too  much,  or  who  ha\e  been  induced  to  commit 
sin  by  our  words  or  example.  We  are  also  prompted  to  pray  for 
them  by  our  own  interest.  What  consolation  will  it  not  be  for  us 
to  know  that  we  have  abbreviated  their  sufferings  I  Plow  great  will 
their  gratitude  be  after  their  deliverance  !  They  will  manifest  it  by 
praying  for  us,  and  obtaining  for  us  the  help  which  is  so  necessary 
in  this  valley  of  tears.  In  prosperity  men  forget  those  who  have 
helped  them  in  adversity;  but  it  will  not  be  so  with  the  souls  in 
Purgatory.     After  being  admitted  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven  through 


494 


ArrENDix. 


the  help  of  our  prayers,  "they  will  solicit,"  says  St.  Bernard,  "the 
most  precious  gifts  of  grace  iu  our  behalf,  and  because  the  merciful 
shall  obtain  mercy,  we  will  receive  after  our  death  the  reward  of 
whatever  may  have  been  done  for  the  souls  of  Pui'gatory  during 
our  life.  Others  will  pray  for  us,  and  we  shall  share  more  abun- 
dantly in  the  suffrages  which  the  Church  offers  without  ceasing,  for 
those  who  sleep  in  the  Lord." 


I.  '< 


PURGATORIAL    ASSOCIATION. 

A    CARD   mOM   REV.    S.   S.  MATTINGLY. 

{From  the  Catholic  Columbian^ 

We  wish  to  call  the  attention  of  the  members  of  this  Association 
to  the  near  approach  of  the  commemoration  of  all  the  faithful  de- 
parted, which  takes  place  on  Monday,  the  second  day  of  next  No- 
vember. Our  Association  is  in  its  fourth  year  of  existence.  Its 
numbers  have  increased  beyond  our  expectations. 

Just  now,  on  account  of  the  season,  applications  begin  to  come 
in  more  rapidly,  hence  we  wish  to  give  again  the  conditions  for 
membership,  and  the  benefits  derived  from  it.  The  members  say 
one  decade  of  the  beads,  or  one  "  Our  Father  "  and  ten  "  Hail 
Mar\s "  every  day.  They  may  take  what  mystery  of  the  Holy 
Rosary  devotion  may  prompt,  and  retain  or  change  it  at  their  own 
will,  without  reference  to  us.  This  is  all  that  is  required,  and,  of 
course,  the  obligation  cannot  bind  under  pain  of  even  venial  sin. 
Those  tamilies  which  say  the  Rosary  every  day  need  not  add  an- 
other decade  unless  they  choose,  but  may  say  the  Rosary  in  union 
with  the  Purgatorial  Association,  and  thus  gain  the  benefits  for 
themselves  and  the  faithful  departed. 

The  benefits  are  one  Mass  every  week,  which  is  said  for  the  poor 
souls,  for  the  spiritual  and  temporal  welfare  of  the  members,  ac- 
cording to  their  intention,  and  for  the  same  intention  a  memento  is 
made  every  day  during  Holy  Mass  for  them. 

There  arc  many  kind  priests  who  are  associated  with  us  in  this 
good  work,  and  they,  we  are  sure,  remember  us  all  in  the  Holy 
Sacrifice.  We  thank  and  beg  tiicm  to  continue  to  be  mindful  of 
us  associated  and  bound  together  in  this  most  charitable  work  of 
shortening,  by  our  prayers  and  good  works,  the  time  of  purgation 
for  the  souls  in  Purgatory. 


APPENDIX. 


495 


Those  who  desire  to  become  members  may  send  their  names, 
with  a  postal  card  directed  to  themselves,  so  that  their  application 
may  be  answered.  The  applications  for  membership  are  directed 
to  Rev.  S.  S.  Mattingly,  McConnellsville,  Morgan  County,  Ohio. 

Some  two  or  three  times  complaints  have  come  to  us,  but  in  all 
cases  the  letters  never  came  to  hand.  We  have  from  lime  to  time 
received  letters  not  intended  for  us,  and  from  this  we  judge  our  let- 
ters went  elsewhere.  We  try  to  be  prompt,  though  an  odd  time 
our  absence  on  the  mission  may  delay  an  answer. 

Now,  dear  friends,  there  is  another  fact  to  which  we  must  advert. 
Many  of  our  dear  associates,  who  were  attracted  by  the  charity  of 
our  work,  are  no  longer  among  the  living.  Their  friends  have 
kindly  reminded  us  of  their  death  by  letter,  and  we,  grateful  for 
this  charit}',  always  pray  for  them.  Their  day  is  passed.  Our 
time  is  coming.  Who  can  remember  the  kind  faces  which  have 
gone  out  of  our  fiimilies  and  not  shed  tears  at  their  absence  ?  Their 
places  are  vacant.  Love  leaves  the  very  chairs  on  which  they  sat 
unoccupied.  W^e  look  around  the  room  and  at  the  places  their 
forms  filled  within  it.  All  these  bring  tears  to  our  eyes,  and  make 
the  heart  too  full  for  utterance.  Thus  fond  imagination,  sprung 
from  love,  wipes  out  the  vacancy.  We  look  through  the  mist  of 
our  tears  and  there  again  are  the  forms  of  our  love,  but  alas  !  they 
do  not  speak  to  us.  And  days  and  months  are  run  into  years,  yet 
our  tears  flow  on  ;  indeed  we  cannot  and  we  do  not  want  to  forget 
them.  We  think  of  our  sins  and  faults  and  how  they  caused  theirs, 
and  our  cry  of  pardon  for  ourselves  must  come  after  or  with  that 
of  mercy  for  them. 


THE  HOLY   FACE   AND  THE  SUFFERING   SOULS. 

The  holy  souls  in  Purgatory  are  ever  saying  in  beseeching  ac- 
cents: "Lord,  show  us  Thy  Face,"  desiring  with  a  great  desire  to 
see  it ;  waiting,  they  longingly  wait  for  the  Divine  Face  of  their 
Saviour.  We  should  often  pray  for  the  holy  souls  who  during  life 
thirsted  to  see,  in  the  splendor  of  its  glory,  the  Human  Face  of 
Jesus  Christ.  We  should  often  say  the  Litany  of  the  Holy  Face  ot 
Jesus,  that  our  Lord  may  quickly  bring  these  holy  souls  to  the  con- 
templation of  His  Adorable  Countenance.  We  should  pray  to 
Mary,  Mother  All-Merciful,  who,  before  all  others,  saw  the  Face  of 
Jesus  in  His  two-fold  nativity  in  Bethlehem,  and  from  the  tomb,  to 


frT 


I'  i 


1     I 


h-     I 


I  r 


M 


I 


■1 


496 


APPENDIX. 


plcrid  for  tliose  lioly  souls ;  to  St.  Joseph,  who  saw  the  Face  of 
Jesus  in  Bethlehem  and  Nazareth  ;  to  the  glorious  St.  Michael,  Our 
Lady's  regent  in  Purgatory,  one  of  the  seven  who  stands  before  the 
throne  and  Face  of  God,  who  has  been  appointed  to  receive  souls 
after  death,  and  is  the  special  consoler  and  advocate  of  tlic  holy 
souls  detained  amidst  the  flames  of  Purgatory,  We  should  also 
pray  to  St.  Peter  for  the  holy  souls,  he  to  whom  Christ  gave  the 
keys  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven.  The  holy  souls  are  suffering  the 
temporal  penalty  due  to  sin.  This  Apostle  had  by  his  sin  effaced 
the  image  of  God  in  his  soul,  but  Jesus  turned  His  Holy  Face 
toward  the  unfaithful  disciple,  and  His  divine  look  wounded  the 
heart  of  Peter  with  repentant  sorrow  and  love  ;  also  St.  James  and 
St.  John,  who  with  him  saw  the  glory  of  the  Face  of  Jesus  on 
Mount  Tiiabor,  and  its  sorrow  in  Gethsemane,  when,  'neath  the 
olive  trees,  it  was  covered  with  confusion,  and  bathed  in  a  bloody 
sweat  for  our  sins.  These  great  saints,  dear  to  the  Heart  of  Jesus, 
will  surely  hear  our  prayers  in  behalf  of  the  holy  souls.  St.  Mary 
Magdalen,  who  saw  the  Holy  Face  in  agony  on  the  cross,  when  its 
incomparable  beauty  was  obscured  under  the  fearful  cloud  of  the 
sins  of  the  world,  and  who  assisted  the  Virgin  Mother  to  wash, 
anoint,  and  veil  the  bruised,  pale,  features  of  her  Divine  Son  ;  the 
saint,  whose  many  sins  were  forgiven  her  because  she  had  loved 
much,  v.-ill  lend  heed  to  our  prayers  for  the  holy  souls.  We  should 
also  invoke,  for  the  holy  souls,  the  Virgin  Martyrs,  because  of  their 
purity,  love,  and  the  sufferings  they  endured  to  see  in  Heaven  the 
Face  of  their  King. 

Yet  nothing  can  help  these  souls  so  much  as  the  Holy  Sacrifice 
of  the  Mass.  By  the  "  Blood  of  the  Testament "  these  prisoners 
can  be  brought  out  of  the  pit.  Even  to  hear  Mass  with  devotion 
for  the  holy  souls,  brings  them  great  refreshment.  St.  Jerome 
says :  "  The  souls  in  Purgator}^  for  whom  the  priest  is  wont  to 
pray  at  Mass,  suffer  no  pain  whilst  Mass  is  being  offered,  that  after 
every  Mass  is  said  for  the  souls  in  Purgatory  some  souls  are  re- 
leased therefrom."  Our  Blessed  Lady,  the  consoler  of  the  afflicted, 
will  always  do  much  to  aid  the  holy  souls  ;  in  her  maternal  solici- 
tude, she  hws  promised  io  assist  and  console  the  devout  wearers  of 
the  Brown  Scapular  of  Mount  Carmel  detained  in  Purgatory,  and 
also  to  speedily  release  them  from  its  flames,  the  Saturday  after 
their  death,  \i some  itiw  conditions  have  been  complied  with  during 
their  life-time  on  earth.     Bishop  Vaughan  says,  "  there  can  be  no 


APPENDIX. 


497 


)  saw  the  Face  of 
IS  St.  Michael,  Our 
)  stands  before  the 
;d  to  receive  souls 
•ocate  of  the  holy 
We  should  also 
a  Christ  gave  the 
3  are  suffering  the 
by  his  sin  effaced 
:1  His  Holy  Face 
ook  wounded  the 
ilso  St.  James  and 
Face  of  Jesus  on 
when,  'neath  the 
ithed  in  a  bloody 
le  Heart  of  Jesus, 
'  souls.     St.  Mary 
he  cross,  wlien  its 
irful  cloud  of  the 
Mother  to  wash, 
Divine  Son  ;  the 
e  she  had  loved 
)uls.     We  should 
,  because  of  their 
tQ  in  Heaven  the 

le  Holy  Sacrifice 
these  prisoners 
s  with  devotion 
nt.  St.  Jerome 
iest  is  wont  to 
Tered,  that  after 
ne  souls  are  re- 
of  the  afflicted, 
maternal  solici- 
vout  wearers  of 
Purgatory,  and 
;  Saturday  after 
ied  with  during 
here  can  be  no 


difficulty  in  believing  thus,  if  we  consider  the  meaning  of  a  Plenary 
Indulgence  granted  by  the  Church,  and  applicable  to  the  holy 
souls.  The  Sabbatine  Indulgence  is,  in  fact,  a  Plenary  Indulgence 
granted  by  God,  through  the  prayers  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary  to 
the  deceased  who  are  in  Purgatory,  provided  they  have  fulfilled 
upon  earth  certain  specified  conditions.  The  Sacred  Congregation 
of  the  Holy  Office  by  a  Decree  of  February  13,  16 13,  forever 
settled  any  controversy  that  should  arise  on  the  sul)ject  of  this  ]Jull. 
St.  Teresa,  in  the  thirty-eighth  chapter  of  her  life,  shows  the  special 
favor  Our  Lady  exerts  in  favor  of  her  Carmelite  children  and  all 
who  wear  the  Brown  Scapular.  She  saw  a  holy  friar  ascending  to 
Heaven  without  passing  through  Purgatory,  and  was  given  to  un- 
derstand, that  because  he  had  kept  his  rule  well  he  had  obtained 
the  grace  granted  to  the  Carmelite  Order  by  special  bulls,  as  to  the 
pains  of  Purgatory.  So  from  their  prison  these  waiting  souls  are 
ever  crying  out  to  us,  patient  and  resigned,  yet  with  a  most  burning 
desire,  they  are  longing  to  be  brought  to  the  presence  of  God,  and 
to  gaze  upon  the  glorified  countenance  of  the  Incarnate  Word. 
They  are  fiir  more  perfectly  members  of  the  Mystical  Body  of 
Christ  than  we  are,  because  they  are  confirmed  in  grace,  and  the 
doctrine  of  the  Communion  of  Saints  should  hence  prompt  us  to 
give  the  holy  souls  the  charitable  assistance  of  our  alms,  prayers, 
and  good  works.  "  Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  ye 
shall  fulfill  the  law  of  Christ,"  and  thus  one  day  with  them  enjoy 
the  endless  Vision  of  the  Holy  Face  of  Jesus  Christ  in  its  un- 
clouded splendor  in  Heaven. 


WHEN    WILL    THEY    LEARN    ITS    SECRET? 

HOW   THE   CARDINAL'S   OBSEaUIES  IMPRESSED   A   BAPTIST 

SPECTATOR. 

(From  the  Baptist  Examiner.) 

For  the  third  time  in  a  quarter  of  a  century  the  streets  have  been 
thronged,  and  an  unending  procession  has  filed  by  the  dead.  Long 
lines  reached  many  blocks,  both  up  and  down  Fifth  avenue,  and 
they  grew  no  shorter  through  the  best  part  of  three  days.  This 
recognition  of  the  eminence  and  power  of  the  Cardinal,  John  ]\Ic- 
Closkey,  has  been  very  general. 

All  classes  have  paid  homage.     And  why  1     He  was  a  gentle- 


J 


498 


APPENDIX. 


man.  He  was  learned,  politic,  able,  far-sighted,  clean.  His  energy 
was  without  measure.  The  rise  and  reach  of  his  influence  and 
work  have  no  chance  for  comparison  with  the  accomplishment  of 
any  other  American  clergyman.  There  is  none  to  name  beside 
him.  He  was  a  burning  zealot  all  his  life.  Elevation  and  honors 
came  to  him.  He  became  a  prince  in  his  Church.  He  swept 
every  avenue  of  power  and  influence  within  his  grasp  into  that 
Church.  He  lived  singly  for  it.  In  his  death,  his  Church  exalts 
herself.  She  gives,  after  her  faith,  prayers,  Masses,  glory.  In  his 
life  he  spoke  only  for  Rome.  In  his  death  his  voice  is  intensified. 
His  life  was  one  long  gain  to  his  people.  In  his  death  they  suffer 
no  loss.  His  time  and  character  and  personality  are  so  exalted, 
that,  "  being  dead  he  yet  speaketh." 

The  Church  of  Rome  stands  alone.  It  is  forever  strange.  It  is 
a  law  to  itself.  Thus  it  comes  that  this  funeral  does  not  belong  to 
America,  or  to  the  century.  Rome  and  the  Middle  Ages  conducted 
the  obsequies.  The  canons  are  prescribed.  They  have  never 
changed.  Behold  then  in  New  York,  what  might  have  been  seen 
in  ruined  Melrose  Abbey  in  its  ancient  day  of  splendor. 

The  Cardinal  lies  in  state  in  his  cathedral,  that  consummate 
flower  of  all  his  ministry.  Saw  you  ever  a  Roman  Pontiff  lying  in 
state .''  The  high  catafalque  is  covered  with  yellow  cloth.  The 
body,  decked  in  official  robes,  uncoffined,  reclines  aslant  thereon. 
The  head  is  greatly  elevated.  A  mighty  candle  shines  on  the  bier 
at  either  corner.  The  Cardinal's  red  hat  hangs  at  his  feet.  His 
cape  is  purple,  his  sleeves  are  pink  drawn  over  with  lace,  his  shirt 
is  crimson  and  white  lace  covered.  Purple  gloves  are  on  his  hands. 
On  his  head  is  his  tall  white  mitre.  His  pectoral  cross  lies  on  his 
pulseless  breast.  His  seal  ring  glitters  on  his  finger.  To  me  it  was 
an  awful  and  uncanny  figure.  The  man  was  old  and  disease 
wasted.  The  lips  were  sunken  over  shrunken  gums.  The  chin 
was  sharp  and  far-protruding.  The  colors  of  the  cloths  were  gar- 
ish and  loud.  It  was  a  gay  lay  figure,  red  and  yellow  and  white  and 
black  and  purple  and  pink.  It  made  me  shudder.  Yet  lying 
there  under  the  very  roof  his  hands  had  builded,  that  reclining  fig- 
ure was  immensely  impressive. 

The  work — the  work,  in  light  and  strength  and  glory  stands  ; 
but  the  skilled  and  cunning  workman  is  brought  low,  and  lies  cold 
and  silent.  The  crowded  and  glorious,  almost  living  cathedral— 
the  richly  bedecked  body  dismantled,  deserted,  dead.     Was  ever 


lean.  His  energy 
lis  influence  and 
xomplisliment  of 
;  to  name  beside 
nation  and  honors 
iircli.  He  swept 
s  grasp  into  that 
his  Church  exalts 
es,  glory.  In  his 
•ice  is  intensified, 
death  they  sufter 
y  are  so  exalted, 


^er  strange. 


It  is 

3es  not  belong  to 
e  Ages  conducted 
"hey  have  never 
It  have  been  seen 
iindor. 

that  consummate 

ti  Pontiff  lying  in 

low  cloth.     The 

aslant  thereon. 

lines  on  the  bier 

It  his  feet.     His 

ith  lace,  his  shirt 

are  on  his  hands. 

cross  lies  on  his 

r.    To  me  it  was 

Did   and   disease 

ums.     The  chin 

cloths  were  gar- 

3W  and  white  and 

der.     Yet    lying 

hat  reclining  fig- 

(1  glory  stands  ; 

)w,  and  lies  cold 
inij  cathedral — 
ead.     Was  ever 


APPENDIX. 


499 


contrast  so  wide  or  suggestive?  The  white,  shining  arches  and 
pinnacles,  up-pointing  in  architectural  splendor.  The  architect  lies 
under  them  prone,  unconscious,  decaying.  The  beautiful  win- 
dows, all  storied  in  colors  almost  supernatural,  and  telling  their 
histories  and  honoring  their  place.  Uut  the  temple  of  the  Cardi- 
nal's soul  is  in  ruins,  the  windows  are  broken,  and  its  day  is  dark- 
ness and  mold. 

So,  silent  he  lies  in  his  house,  surrounded  by  his  faithful,  whose 
cries  and  lamentations  he  hears  not,  his  cold  hands  clasped,  his 
dead  face  uncovered,  as  though  looking  above  its  high  vaulted 
roof. 

I  seemed  to  see  again  the  bedizened  skeleton  of  old  St.  Carlo 
Borromeo  in  the  crypt  of  the  Cathedral  of  Milan,  as  lying  in  his 
coffin  of  glass,  his  bones  all  bleached  and  dressed.     But  the  care- 
less throngs  go  thoughtlessly,  noisily  on.     Some  weep,  some  laugh, 
and  Thursday,  the  day  of  sepulture,  comes.    What  masses  of  people  ! 
W^hat  platoons  of  police  !     The  magnificent  temple  is  packed  by 
pious  thousands.     The  four  candles  about  the  bier  become  four 
shining  rows.     The  glitter  of  royal  violet  velvet  and  cloth  of  gold 
add  to  the  gorgeous  trappings  of  the  dead.     The  waiting  multitudes 
look  breathlessly  at  the  black  draped   columns,  the  emblems  of 
mourning  put  on  here  and  there.     Without  announcement  a  single 
voice  cries  out  from  the  dusky  chancel  the  first  lines  of  the  office 
for  the  dead.     A  great  Gregorian  choir  of  boys  takes  up  the  wail, 
and  their  shrill  treble  is  by-and-by  joined  by  the  hoarser  notes  of 
four  hundred  priests,  in  the  solemn  music  of  the  Pontifical  Requiem 
Mass.     It  has  never  been  given  to  mortal  ears  to  listen  to  such 
marvels  of  musical  sound  in  this  country.     Anon  the  great  organs 
and  the  united  choirs  render  the  master's  most  mournful  music  for 
the   dead.     Then  processions,  then   eulogy.     And   what   eulogy ! 
Schools,  colleges,  convents,  asylums,  protectories,  palaces,  cathe- 
drals, churches.     What  a  vast  and  impressive  testimony  ! 

What  a  company  rises  up  to  call  him  blessed  !  This  imposing 
pageantry  is  not  an  empty  show.  It  is  Rome's  display  of  her  re- 
sources and  power.  Who  else  can  have  such  processions  and  vest- 
ments and  music  ?  Who  can  so  minister  to  the  inherent,  perhaps 
barbaric  remnant,  love  for  display  ?  In  the  wide  world  where  can 
the  ear  of  man  catch  such  harmonies  .''  The  music,  as  a  whole,  was 
a  deluge  of  lofty  and  inspiring  expressions.  Anguish,  despair,  de- 
votion, submission,  elevation !     Ah,  how  the  lofty  Gothic  arches 


■iMMMS 


500 


APPENDIX. 


I 


thundered  !  How  they  sighed  and  cried  and  melted.  The  great 
assembly  was  swayed,  awe-struck,  liUe  branches  of  forest  trees  in 
gales  or  in  zephyrs.  The  influence  of  those  melodies  will  not  die. 
Oh  !  Rome  is  old,  Rome  is  new ;  Rome  is  wise.  Rome  is  the  Solo- 
mon of  the  Churches. 

Mark  this  well.  The  Cardinal  is  dead.  What  hap)3ens  ?  Does 
the  machinery  stagger }  Has  a  great  and  irreparable  calamity 
fallen  on  the  churches  ?  Are  any  plans  abandoned  .''  Is  the  policy 
affected.?  Will  aggression  cease?  Nothing  happens  but  a  great 
and  imposing  funeral.  The  plans  are  not  atTected.  The  lines  do 
not  waver.  No  work  begun  will  be  suspended.  Everything  goes 
on.  If  only  a  deacon  should  die  out  of  some  Baptist  church,  alas  ! 
my  brethren,  the  plate  returns  empty  to  the  altar.  The  minister 
puts  on  his  hat.  Consternation  jumps  on  the  ridge-pole  and 
languishing,  settles  down.  When  shall  we  learn  ?  When  shall  we 
plan  harmoniously,  unite  our  counsels,  work  within  the  lines,  cease 
wasting  resources,  carry  forward  a  common  work,  and  when  some 
man  falls,  put  a  new  man  in  his  place,  move  up  the  line,  and  keep 
step  ?  To-day,  when  a  gap  is  made  here,  we  try  to  mend  it,  after 
a  time,  by  seeking  how  great  a  gap  we  can  create  somewhere  else. 
W^hat  wonder  that  good  men  get  tired  and  go  where  no  such  folly 
flies,  and  where  the  current  flows  on  and  on  forever ! 

And  the  old  Cardinal  rests  in  the  crypt,  under  the  high  white 
altar.  He  sleeps  in  the  mausoleum  of  the  great.  He  has  the  re- 
ward of  his  labors.  He  carried  into  his  tomb  the  insignia  of  his 
high  office.  Sealed  up  in  his  coffin  is  a  parchment  which  future 
ages  may  read,  long  after  we  are  all  forgot,  giving  a  condensed 
record  of  his  long  and  active  career.  The  bishops  and  priests  have 
gone  home  to  their  parishes  ;  and  their  tireless  labors  go  on.  They 
are  thinking  of  the  mighty  but  gentle  and  kindly  Cardinal ;*of  the 
telegrams  from  the  Papal  Court,  the  College  of  Cardinals,  the  Pope, 
and  of  the  imposing  funeral ;  of  his  own  words  which  they  wrung 
from  him  amidst  the  rigors  of  death: 

*'  I  bless  you,  my  children,  and  all  the  churches."  It  was  the 
parting  of  a  prophet.  And  the  priests  will  live  for  the  Church  and 
mankind.  They  are  whispering,  "The  fliithful  are  rewarded! 
Effort  is  acknowledged  !  O,  Rome  has  -piikjn  the  earth  !  Rome 
is  putting  her  armor  together  again."  Sometimes  I  hear  the  creak- 
ing of  her  coat  of  mail  as  she  mightily  moves  herself  in  exercise. 


n;^ 


:ltecl.  The  great 
of  forest  trees  in 
)clies-  will  not  die. 
Kome  is  the  Solo- 
happens  ?  Does 
parable  calamity 
d  ?  Is  the  policy 
pens  but  a  great 
d.  The  liney  do 
Everything  goes 
tist  church,  alas  ! 
r.  The  minister 
2  ridge-pole  and 
'  When  shall  we 
1  the  lines,  cease 
,  and  when  some 
he  line,  and  keep 
to  mend  it,  after 
somewhere  else, 
ere  no  such  folly 

sr  the  high  white 
He  has  the  re- 
le  insignia  of  his 
lent  which  future 
ing  a  condensed 
>  and  priests  have 
)ors  go  on.  They 
Cardinal  ;*of  the 
rdinals,  the  Pope, 
/hich  they  wrung 


es."  It  was  the 
r  the  Church  and 
[  are  rewarded  1 
lie  earth  !  Rome 
I  hear  the  creak- 
i\i  in  exercise. 


